To Exist Together
by Kintaraheart
Summary: They were never even supposed to be friends, now they are suddenly thrown into chaos together. How are they supposed to survive in a world full of war, destruction, and slavery.
1. Chapter 1

**I know I have a million other fanfics to update. But I honestly cannot write them right now. **

**This story won't be long. Only a few chapters, and certainly not more than ten. I'm so enchanted with the zones in Draenor right now, I just had to write something taking place there.**

**This pairing is not unheard of in the WoW universe, though in my opinion it's highly underrated. I think with the setting in-game is perfect for this, tbh. This is just before the Iron Horde start their crazy rampage.**

**If you haven't figured it out already, this is going to contain spoilers for those who don't yet have warlords. You've been warned now.**

**I own nothing but the names, lives, and actions of my OCs**

As a girl my life was simple. You woke up early, you washed yourself, you dressed and you ate, you tended to your part of the garden, visited with your friends after your lessons, and you prayed to the Light. Your days were filled by dusty tomes, your father's droning lectures, the idle chatter of neighbors, and the smell of the spices picked from your family's garden that always lingered on your clothes. You knew who you were and what you were to do each day. You knew what not to do and you knew what was wrong. There was not a single face unfamiliar in your whole village, you knew everyone, and everyone knew you just as they knew your mother and father and cousins and friends. The deepest thoughts you had were of your flowers, were they growing as they should be? Did you water them enough? Too much? Should you not have watered them at all?

The days were never too long or too short, your mind never pondered your very existence, and you never thought of death or what came after. The Light was always with you, almost annoyingly so, and you felt it followed you everywhere like the unwelcome gnats from the marsh. But it gave a warmth like even your parents could not. It was like the warmest of baths or the coziest of fires and it never quite left you, even if you were having a fit. There was a reassurance, a level of comfort, that could not be matched by anything you could hold in your hands or see. Or so you used to think.

You were a regular child. Not overly tall or short or thin or heavy. Your hair was dark and your eyes glowed the usual silvery blue. You played at the edge of the marsh even though you were not supposed to, got caught once or twice, and cried if you fell and skinned your knees or the mud stained your favorite shirt. You envied the older girl two homes down who raised Faerie Dragons and had a little hatchling of her own. You were teased about always smelling like spices. You hated when your father made his prayers extra long and you had to wait your turn. You feared the Shadowmoon Orcs just as everyone else did, though you never showed your fear if one of them ever came to trade goods with someone at the market. You were always right where you were supposed to be, never even a step off. You never paid the conflicts of adults any attention. Your mind was always on your flowers or the boy in your lessons who both annoyed and amused you, how much you liked your new dress that Mother bought for you, curiosity over the mysterious Rangari whom you so admired, your fondness of the grasslands and fields of Shadowmoon Valley.

When you were half-grown, somewhere between an adult and a child, and you learned that your family would be leaving for Talador on a pilgrimage leading to Auchindoun, you would have been outraged if not for the purpose of the journey. You were upset, of course, that you would be leaving your home for so long a time, even though a few months was less than even a wink in the life of a Draenei. You would reach physical maturity in six years, but you would not be considered an adult or even a tiny bit mentally mature compared to your elders for many more decades, though you liked to think you were very mature for your age. And because of this false sense of maturity, and the sacred purpose of your journey, you attempted to take the news of the coming trip in stride and prepared yourself as much as you could.

There had been rumors of the Orcish clans coming together in a pact of some sort, joining into one grand _Iron Horde_. The name of their union sent shivers down everyone's spines, your's was no exception. The Orcs were planning something, everyone was sure of it, and if the mass caravans of Orcs headed for other places on Draenor was anything to judge by, it was something big.

You, like many others, did not want to be unprepared. Your family would be taking the same road out to Talador as many of those bands of Orcs, and should anything happen, you did not want to caught like caught like a Talbuk calf in the jaws of an alpha wolf. You wanted to be able to fight back. Father, too, saw the sense in this. Your lessons shifted from those of the Light's grace to those of the Light's strength and where you once held a tome or prayer book, you now held a staff. Mother did not want you to be subjected to very many ways of violence, preferring that you learned more to use the Light's presence in a fight rather than infusing it in your weapon and through the swing of a hammer. And so you took the lessons of a priestess rather than those of a paladin. You began to find that you liked these new lessons much more than you liked your old ones, too.

For two months prior to the journey your lessons were filled with the ways of the Light in battle and healing. By the time you were all to leave you could heal small wounds, from the prick of a thorn to a nasty scrape, burn away the shadow from your surroundings and your enemies. The training dummies normally used by the Rangari were blackened in many places by the burns inflicted from your Light, and younger children often came to you to heal a bruised shin or a cut on the tail. When the morning your family was to go arrived, you felt as prepared as you could get after only such a small amount of training. Pleased with yourself, your bags were packed and your mind was settled. It was only a few months, after all, and you would be back just in time for the next harvest. There was _one_ regret though. The boy who had at one time irritated you and amused you all at once, had grown into a young man who now still amused you but also fascinated you. And you did not get the chance to tell him so.

It was but a small regret, one you did not dwell upon. You didn't get the time to dwell on it, anyway, as the Talbuk your father rented pulled away with you, your mother, your father, and a half-full cart of things you would need for the journey.

Talador was beautiful. Everything was green and gold or scarlet and silver. Trees bigger, thicker, taller than any of those you'd seen in Shadowmoon twisted their way into the gold-hued sky above you. It took a few days to get used to the sun and the warmth it brought. And so many new animals. Massive birds, much like the Dread Ravens that sometimes came from Araak and were sometimes perched just out of sight in the shadowy, terrifying forests that bordered western Shadowmoon but brown or red in color- called Teroclaws. Huge shimmery-winged moths of all sorts of pretty shades of blue and red and silver. Silver and red furred tigers. There were lots of animals you were familiar with too; Riverbeasts, frogs, and eels. There seemed to be just as much water in Talador as in Shadowmoon. You passed a river, stream, or pond almost every hour. You were fascinated, and it was all so beautiful and new. Everything seemed to glow, and in a different way than back home. There was a rich warmth to everything you could see, from the scarlet leaves high above your head to the stones in the road.

The journey was more peaceful than you'd imagined it would be. You had thought you'd be afraid, especially after the the day of traveling through the dark forests and trying to evade the notice of Shadowmoon Orcs and the attentions of those monstrous birds. But your terror ended after only a couple of hours in Talador. You began to wonder why you ever disliked the idea of this trip. As you went further, stopping in various little villages and towns and camping on the shores of small lakes with other travelers and pilgrims, your father explained more and more of the importance of the trip to Auchindoun. He told you of his own childhood trips and experiences, and for once you weren't bored with his stories and lessons. When you sat down at the fire each night, you grew anxious to hear the next part of the tale. With each day you grew more excited.

But peace cannot last forever, no matter how unbreakable it may seem- Especially in a place so enchanting as Talador.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two. I hope to actually finish this story. It's much easier to write than my other stories for some reason.**

**-Ihsan997: Thank you for reviewing, and for your kind words. I've never written a story this way before so it's new to me. I don't tend to write in first person all that often to begin with, let alone like this. I hope you like this chapter as much as the first one despite it being shorter. :) And yeah, the faerie dragon thing caught me off guard when Warlords came out and the mount was in the store, I'll admit.**

Three weeks into your journey you come to the city of Tuurem. The town is in an uproar, everywhere you go there are crowds of people gathered together and you catch pieces of conversations that have floated their way into the middle of the market's street for you to hear. Each piece is something different but there is one thing that binds them all together; The subject of Orcs. Father seems to hear them all too, and he climbs off the cart to lead the Talbuk to the side of the road before whispering something to Mother and abruptly disappearing into the crowds. Now you are too curious to ignore what's going on, and you feel that you must know what's happening. Your eyes and ears are locked on the market place, here and there you catch glimpses of Father's dark clothing among the sea of light purple and white and azure colored outfits of Tuurem's residents. You have noticed that it's uncommon for people to wear dark clothing here, unlike in Shadowmoon. Your father sticks out like a weed in Mother's beautiful spice garden- The thought makes you miss home for a moment.

You cannot help but notice that Father's usually warm and content face has become a bit darker, as if the dye of his blue shirt has rubbed off on his expression. Seeing him so starts to turn you darker too and you involuntarily begin to pray to the Light as the seed of uncertainty plants itself within the soil of your heart. Worry and fear are like weeds themselves, only they are the deceptive kind that disguise themselves as other plants and hide among your courage and your happiness. Double agents, they are, they must be ripped out by their roots if there is any hope for your garden, for those deceptive weeds are often the worst kind.

When Father returns to the cart, he looks straight at you before the darkness in his eyes slips away. "We will stay here for the night," He says. "There is a good inn and the produce comes by air straight from Shadowmoon." He smiles, but there is just a whisper of worry that taints his face. Then he looks at both you and Mother, the worry you saw a moment ago now very strong in his voice as he says, "And there is something that I must talk with you about."

After dinner Father and Mother call you back to the table when you get up to rest and you practically run back. You know that Father is going to tell you what is going on, and you are too curious to rest. There is excitement thrumming through you, but not the good kind. The light passing through the windows of your family's room is dimmed and made blue by the stained glass, and it casts sullen shadows across Father's already stormy expression.

"Taluulai, my daughter," Father begins, "I am sure you heard some of the townsfolk gossiping today, and I am just as sure that you are anxious to know the full story of what they were whispering about. There was a terrible tragedy that took place only two days ago that I must tell you of." You are silent as he settles himself in his chair a little better and you fidget with a stray thread hanging from the cushioned seat of your own chair as you wait. Finally he continued. "Two days ago another family on a pilgrimage to Auchindoun stopped to rest here for the night, however, before they settled in they wanted to wash their clothes in a creek nearby. Hours passed and they did not come, so the innkeeper sent someone to look for them before deciding whether or not to give away their room. A guard was sent to the creek to look for the six of them but he encountered only their bodies, each one impaled by an Orcish banner through the back."

I stared at my father, never in my life had I heard of such violence before. My life had been sheltered away in the city of Elodor, far from any battles, consisting only of farming and the Light. War and murder existed in books and stories, in lessons and old sayings about the Light, not in my life, not to innocent people traveling through gentle forests of gold and red, it was not a topic of gossiping women in the marketplace, and never a part of my life.

"Let us pray for those souls to finish their journey to Auchindoun." Your hands came together involuntarily in the form for prayer. From your lips the holy words came on their own. But as your eyes closed, you were lost in your mind, not in the prayer. The power of the Light that you summon forth feels tainted, just like your sense of security. The world has forever been changed.

Barely, through your tangled thoughts, do you hear what Father says next, but you still hear it all the same. "There is more I have to tell you, Taluulai." And so you unravel yourself from the web of pondering, the rat's nest of fears and wonderings, to listen to the rest of his message. He tells you that their suspicions in Shadowmoon were justified, that the Orcs were indeed planning for war, that people had gone missing- Whole villages murdered or taken away- and that the whole of the Draenei people was worried. At the end he added, "But the power of the Light will not keep us from Auchindoun. We will get there some way, whether alive or through death, because the Light will guide us.

You know those words were supposed to be ones of reassurance. But you could not help having your doubts, no matter how unfaithful you felt as a priestess when those thoughts came to mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Third chapter. WIll I actually finish a fanfic for once? I hope so.**

**Ihsan997: Right now in the story, Tuurem still stands. Orgrim and his troops havent arrived yet, this is before that happens. This is just the very beginning of the war right now, but soon it will be in full swing. Also, I don't really have a chapter count planned lol. I havent planned this out very much because it seems like if I plan a story out to a really detailed extent it totally veers off course or I can never finish it. I don't know why, but that always happens. So i'm just kinda writing this as I go and trying to head in the general direction I was this story to go in.**

**Feffervesce: Yay! I'm glad you like it. I'm really trying with this one lol.**

You remember passing by the creek where the other family had been murdered. There was no trace of the violence that took place only three days before except for the little silver shrine decorated with loving words and purple crystals and a bundle of herbs. There were five crystals, one for every person who had passed, along with a message carved into the bottom of the shrine next to each one. The last message caught your eye, for the words did not match the story you'd been told. Mother was reading it too, you watched her expressions shift between surprise, hope, and then a moment of clarity... Before dread...

You hurried to read the whole message.

_Here, under the watchful gaze of the Light, we place a crystal for the young woman, Eloaar, whose body was never found. May she rest well, safely tucked away from harm- Whether she is still among the living or with our ancestors in Auchindoun._

It was a kind message, you wondered why Mother looked so upset by it. But then you, too, remembered a detail of what you'd been told last night.

"_Entire villages have been taken or killed."_

"_Taken? Taken where?"_

"_To be slaves, my daughter, or to be fuel for some other vile purpose."_

Now you understood, though you wished so much that you did not, why mother looked so close to fainting. That girl had been taken, you knew that now, and the last part of that message was just a polite way of wishing her well even though everyone knew she was doomed. You wonder if Father knew of this last night when he told you what happened. When you glanced at him, his eyes were locked on something on the ground beside the shrine. Pretending to look at the first crystal again, you looked beside the shrine. In the dirt is a paw print, as big as your head, and for some reason you feel sick when you look at it.

The road headed south out of Tuurem was covered in those pawprints, littered with them, as if they were fallen leaves in the off-season after harvest. Each one was as impressive as that first one you had seen. You could not imagine how big those wolves must be. As you sat upon the cart, you watched them pass beneath you on the road as if they never stopped coming. You remembered the skeleton of the wolf you and Father found while searching for wildflower seeds in the fields between Elodor and and the Temple of Karabor. You thought it was so massive, that wolf long gone, and it haunted you're dreams for quite some time. You wondered if perhaps childhood fear was what made you feel so sickened by the wolf prints in the road. You secretly knew it was all more sinister than that...

Nightfall had been terrifying. For the first time since your arrival in Taldor, you did not want to wander far from the camp. Nobody did. Father did not go hunting but instead stared into the fire or tended to Talbuk, never going beyond where the light of the fire could reach. Mother stayed in the tent and read chapters from her tome again or sorted through various herbs she'd collected throughout the day. It would not have seemed odd to any onlookers, and it might not have been odd to you too if you had been just a little younger. But you were observant, and you knew your parents' habits well enough to know when they were overdoing them. There were other little things that gave them away. The way Father would glance behind himself every so often and how he would fiddle with Mother's pruning knife if there was a noise in the forest- Any noise at all. How Mother kept her tome in her hand at all times instead of placing it back into the little purple satchel she always kept it in after reading her nightly chapter or two, the way she tossed and turned her in "sleep."

The more you watched them, the more terrified you grew. The seed of fear was rooting itself in your heart, in your mind, in your actions. You tucked your hooves beneath you when you sat, kept your tail curled against your thigh, and pulled your black shawl tightly about yourself even though you knew it would get tangled in your horns. Sleep was impossible to reach that night, it felt as far away as the stars. You wished you were home, or even back in Tuurem, not there in the forest for all the wolves- And their riders- to find you.

When you woke the next morning, Father would not let you leave the tent and he would not tell you why. But Mother was not in there with you and you could hear her softly crying outside the tent. You panicked, and summoned the Light. And you pushed your way past Father and out into the golden haze of a Talador morning. But Mother was fine, sitting on the little travel bench where you had been last night. You were about to question why she was crying when you noticed a rather strange smell to the air. You had smelled it only once before when the shepherds brought down a sick Elekk in the fields that was a threat to the others and came back to town with the animal in tow. Blood... You turned around.

The Talbuk was dead. And that was when the seed became a sprout.


	4. Chapter 4

**Another update. Am I actually doing this? Wow. I can still do things! I feel magical.**

**ihsan997: Oh fanfiction, I hate when it does that kind of stuff! It makes me happy that you like my story :) But don't worry, this story was meant to be dark from the start... Ok so in a way maybe you should be worried? We'll just have to see lol.**

It had happened sometime during the night, how none of you had heard it was a mystery. But there were prints everywhere and clumps of tan fur stuck in the Talbuk's horns. The animal had tried to fight but had stood little chance being tied to a tree. You wondered why the rest of you weren't killed and eaten too. The Talbuk's body was little more than blood, fur and bones. The sight made you sick to your stomach, your mind went blank as you threw up beside the tent. Father pulled you away from the corpse, and the rest of the camp, and sat you down in the cart. Somewhere between camp and cart you'd started crying, though you don't remember when. Your head hurt as you laid down beside everything you had packed in the cart.

It felt like hours had passed before everything from camp was packed around you and Mother and Father came to the cart, the two of them taking the ropes that once held the Talbuk in place before the cart to pull it themselves. The sight made you cry again.

It was slow going, though you don't remember much of the day besides feeling scared and sad. The image of the poor animal's corpse echoed in your head whenever you fell asleep. Halfway through the day you sat up and dared to look outside of the cart. It was a mistake. Wolf prints still littered the road, even miles from where they'd started. You didn't look outside the cart until it came to a stop.

The air was gold again, the light of day fading behind the mountains and a thousand-mile veil of crimson trees. One of the red leaves drifted down to lay in your lap. It's coloring matched the day's events. When you left the cart you tried to ignore how menacing the thought of nighttime seemed to you, but nothing would work. The roots of fear were wound tight around you, their grip was unwavering, and seemed stronger than anything. The presence of fear was tiring and repetitive, your mind felt sore and spent, you longed for a night back in Shadowmoon, in your little house in Elodor, you longed for a time when your life seemed untouchable. You wondered how you would ever be able to go home when the night seemed to rouse such terror inside you. How would you ever be able to handle the eternal, unending night of Shadowmoon Valley after this trip? How could you ever return home? But the more worrisome, pressing, and threatening question was... _Would_ you ever return home? Would you even make it back? Or were you destined to stay in Auchindoun forever? You felt that if you were to pass into the Light's hands during this journey you would be forever restless. There was so much you did not get to see, did not get to experience. How unfair it would be to die a child. How unfair it was for the children of that murdered family to have died so young. Would you be next?

That night was uneventful, no bloody corpses were a part of your morning the next day. Two more days of travel passed without any tragedies, you were only two days from Auchindoun now. The trip had been made longer now without the Talbuk to pull the cart. Each night Mother and Father looked more exhausted than you'd ever seen anyone, even the workers coming back from the fields in Elodor at the end of a day. You longed for this part of the journey to be over, and dreaded the trip back. Father grumbled about the loss of the Talbuk at the fire each night, Mother went straight to sleep as soon was camp was set up, and all the while you felt as if you were useless. You wanted to help, but the prints in the road made you queezy and the cart was to heavy for you to pull. Finally you decided that for this last leg of the journey you walk beside your parents and pray that the Light give them strength.

You found that walking actually helped. As you went, the prints began to bother you less and each evening the setting of the sun did not make your tail curl and shiver. You found yourself laughing one night at the fire as Father fell asleep sitting up on his bench and almost toppled off of it. You even began collecting herbs and flowers with Mother, and Father started to tell his stories again. On the last morning of travel you even went to go wash on your own in the lake you were camped near.

From the sandy shore of the lake you could see the tents up on the top of the hill where Mother and Father were packing, keeping an eye on you. You could see Mother glance down at you every so often. You did not take off all your clothes to bathe here as you would if you were home or at an inn. There was too much a chance of someone else seeing you and with the Orcish threat all about the forest, you did not want to be running from wolves with no clothes to protect you should you have to hide in the forest. Father had warned you of a death from exposure, for Talador nights could be cold and often it rained while you slept.

The waters of the lake were warm from the sun shining upon it. The story of the other family was in the back of your mind as you washed and you hurried to be done. Your paranoia made the forest seem ominous, every shadow was a wolf waiting for you.

And then one shadow really was.

Except it was not waiting for _you._

* * *

**_That cliff hanger though._  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**I debated a LOT on this chapter. I had a few different versions of how this scene and how it's handled, but I finally decided to settle with this one. Still it feels a bit off and I'll probably edit it later.**

**Ihsan997: Yay for notifications! If Taluulai was human she'd be somewhere between 15-17 and very naive, and the orc would be 17 or 18. So they're both the appropriate age for what they're doing and how they act in this story. Taluulai is the right age for having just started training and doing basic spells, and the orc is old enough to hunt with his brothers and bring down animals, but still young.**

It was huge, massive, gargantuan, bigger than any of the wolves you'd see sitting in the shadow of the trees near the fields, certainly bigger than that skeleton. It's fur was was a muddy brown color and on its back was a crude saddle of red and tan. It stood on the side of the hill, coming out from behind one of the larger trees, its teeth bared and its growl turning into something akin to a roar. It leapt from the hillside and you screamed, but instead of teeth closing around your throat you only felt a slight woosh of air and then the wolf was behind you, and someone else was screaming.

It was a scream not so different from the snarling roar of the wolf, deep and rough, had it lacked such a _voice_ to it you might not have been able to pick it out from wolf's angry growling. But you still could. You whirled around, confused and scared, heart pounding, tail rigid with fear. The sight that met you was more startling than the appearance of the wolf itself. The wolf was on top of the wriggling, tan body of an orc, its maw opening wide and snapping closed only centimeters from the orc's throat. The orc continued to scream, a mixture of terror and rage in each bellow.

You didn't know what to do... That orc could be an enemy, but then why was one of his people's wolves trying to kill him? And if that orc failed to fight off the wolf, the beast would come for you next... But if the orc did win... Then he could come for you, too. Yet this orc had done nothing to you, but neither had the wolf. But perhaps an orc could be reasoned with... Where with this wolf it might not be possible at all. Furiously you debated what you should do. Stay or run back to your family atop the hill. Should you get Father? But you might not have enough time and the hill is steep...

During this debate you caught a glimpse of the orc's face. You were not entirely familiar with what an orcish boy might look like, but you were pretty sure the figure fighting for his life before you was one. He lacked some of the lines you'd seen on the faces of the traders, and his tusks only peeked out a couple of inches from his lips... He was big, well at least bigger than you, and broad shouldered as all orcs were, he could not have been fully grown yet. You remembered what you'd thought of days earlier... _How unfair it would be to die so young._

You made your choice, summoned as much of the Light as you possibly could, and hurled its power at the enraged wolf. The Light struck the beast on the head and it faltered in its attacks, allowing the orc to drag himself a few feet away from the creature. You summoned more, channeling it through yourself and launching bolt after bolt at the stunned creature. Its snarling and howling grew to a peak before being silenced completely. The orc stood behind the creature, a blood covered hatchet in hand. The two of you looked at each other once before both collapsing to your knees. From behind, you heard footsteps and shouting as Mother and Father finally made it down the hill to you.

Father was at your side as soon as you were down, pulling you back away from the wolf and the orc, and then going after the orc himself, the hammer used for setting up the tent posts in hand. You protested and flung your tired body at him, catching him by the arm and yanking on it furiously. "Why do you fight me, my daughter,that orc-"

"Father stop! He is not the enemy. That wolf attacked him, ignored me and went for him alone. It is his own peoples' wolf, he cannot be the enemy. I helped him... K-kill... it." You stopped as you realized the gravity of what you'd just done, ending the life of another. "He has done nothing to me."

As you attempted to get ahold of your racing thoughts, you watched Father look at the orc almost as if seeing him for the first time. His expression was hard to read for those moments as he stared down the orc by the wolf, but when the orc finally lifted his head and Father saw his face, a look of surprise came over him.

Mother must have seen him as well for she said, "He is but a young orc."

Father nodded, but his face darkened again. The storminess had become a common feature of his expression, one you were not fond of. "Young, yes, but old enough to kill." He gestured to the slain wolf. "As you can see."

"Please... Let him go, at least... Do not harm him."

Father's sigh was long, tensed. "Alright," He murmured after a moment. "I will not harm him. He is... only a young orc."

As you were carried away, your eyes fell on the orc once more, only to find he, too, was looking at you.

You did not dream during your rest. After Father and Mother packed the camp, you fell asleep almost immediately in the back of the cart. Almost immediately, but not quite. The realization of what you just done and the fear that had been buried beneath your shock hit you hard, forcing a few panicked tears from you until exhaustion settled in. It had taken an immense amount of energy and Will to cast those few spells. Your body ached and your head throbbed, though you could not tell if it was from the mental exertion of those spells or crying. As you fell asleep you were amazed at yourself. How you managed the bravery to cast those spells was beyond you. You knew you should have fled, but you had not been able to bring yourself to. Still you were not sure exactly why you stayed. Perhaps it was only the thoughts of how cruel a death it would have been for someone so young, for someone so like you, but that did not seem to be all. Perhaps it had been his eyes... Golden eyes, animalistic, primal and deep, so very unlike your own... Others might see the eyes of a predator, but all you had been able to see were eyes filled with fear.


	6. Chapter 6

**This update took longer than expected. Hopefully I can get back on track now, though. This chapter is in the orc's point of view, next chapter we will get back to Taluulai.**

**Ihsan997:I'm glad you liked the scene. I was worried. Hopefully this chapter isn't too odd.**

He watched her go in silence, his eyes locking on hers as she was carried away. There were black spots at the edges of his vision and he could hardly catch his breath, but still he could see her as clearly as he saw the moon at night. She had saved him, and he knew that he should feel embarrassed at having to be saved- But he was not. He wasn't so much a fool that he'd let his life be thrown away over what tiny shred of pride he still held, not anymore at least.

His life had been turned upside down, thrown into chaos by the will of the Iron Horde. From the hunt to the ambush, his capture to the deaths of his brothers, the torturing sessions to his escape, to being ambushed all over again... And now to being saved... The last few weeks had been madness, a reckless whirlpool of fear and death and mortality- And he had been shoved right into it. He and that girl were both victims of this, even though he was in no way old enough to be called wise, he could see it in her face. Both of them had been robbed of their peaceful lives, of their naive sense of security.

When her father, at least he guessed that was her father, came at him with that hammer he hadn't been afraid. It wasn't that he thought he'd live, he'd been very surprised when the man backed off, he just wasn't afraid. All he had been able to think of was that he'd rather take this swift death over any death given to him by the Iron Horde. It was a coward's way of thinking, but he didn't care anymore. He and his brothers had tried to stay strong and defiant in the face of their captors for the first week or so after they were ambushed in Frostfire while hunting, but they were all screaming for mercy or a quick death eventually.

He felt the angry whip marks and wounds on his back tingle at the memories.

Watching his older brother die had been the hardest for him. His brother had always seemed so unbreakable, so strong willed, more like iron than Iron Horde itself. Watching his brother crumble and curl into a ball as the guards beat him had been more agonizing than any physical wound he'd received. Watching the life slip from his eyes had been the worst, though. He remembered feeling so numb and empty at that moment that he actually dared to speak to the grunts and soldiers all around them.

"He's dead, you know, you can stop now." The whole pit, and all its jeering and yelling and snarling, had gone silent at that moment- Or so it seemed silent to him at least.

One of the higher ranked soldiers grabbed his brother by the hair and turned the dead man's head to stare at him with those empty, graying, bloodshot eyes. It was an image he would never be able to shake from his mind. Everything that came after had been meaningless to him. The insults and the laughing from the crowd gathered around them were just faint murmurs through the thick shield of disconnection he'd plastered around himself in order to keep himself from going mad. The pain from the beatings and whippings was just a sensation, like the cold wind against his skin.

He hadn't been awake for the deaths of his younger brothers, he was glad for it. They were _so_ young. Just barely past their childhoods. Seeing them be stripped away from the world of the living would've broken his barrier and left him defenseless from the madness of the prison halls.

His barrier did eventually break, though, just not at all in the way he had thought it would.

He didn't remember killing the guards, though apparently he'd done it according to the three armored corpses that had been laying at his feet after the strange haze of Rage left him. But he'd thought little of their deaths aside from the feeling of vengeance- Three lives taken for the three lives he'd lost- He'd taken their weapons, guns, though he knew nothing of how to use them. And he ran from the prison, out into the slave yard, and then to the docks. He'd hid on a ship, choosing that place only because there was nowhere else to go, but it had been a huge mistake. The ship had been one set to depart, and before the other guards had managed find him he was on his way to who knew where. He was on that ship for two weeks, hiding in an area where he'd found soldiers' rations. It was just a supply ship, perfect really, nothing transporting troops. He'd found everything he needed to plan his escape where he hid. Food and water, a cloak and boots, and a hatchet.

The ship docked in a land he'd never seen before. Gorgrond he'd been slightly familiar with due to stories and legends, mostly about how deadly the place was. But this place was completely foreign to him. The first thing he noticed was how warm it was here, and how many plants there were. The wind was warm, seemingly all on its own with no volcanic chasms and rifts to feed hot air and gas into it like back in Frostfire. The absence of snow was almost disturbing. Everywhere he looked it was green or blue or red or gold. There had also been soldiers everywhere. The beach had been crawling with them, he hadn't been sure how he was going to get past them.

Finally he had decided he would just go, make stuff up as he went along, and somehow find his way past the army. He hid behind a pile of crates on deck and watched as they were unloaded. While the workers were busy he checked one, opening it to find it was just filled with nuts and bolts and screws for machinery. He scooped out some of the parts and dumped them into the water before climbing in himself. He wasn't sure what happened after that, the crate was secure and dark, no holes to peek out of whatsoever. He'd felt the screws pricking his already sore skin, grinding into his side and back. It took so much for him not to groan.

Then came the part he wasn't prepared for. He was loaded onto something, a wagon maybe, he didn't know. For three days it bounced swiftly along the road, a strange humming grinding sound in his ears the whole way. The screws and bolts dug deeper, he found himself panting at times from the pain. He'd begun to wonder if the trip would ever end...

It did so abruptly. The... thing... stopped and his crate was thrown onto the ground and-

Opened.

He'd barely remembered to grab the few things he'd taken with him, from the ship as he flew from the crate, stumbling over the workers and tearing off into the forest. He hadn't really been worried about the workers, they weren't armed, they didn't even have armor. Or sharp teeth, nor could they run at startlingly fast speeds. But that guard and his battle wolf wolf beside them could. That was how he'd gotten the wolf on his tale, and he'd been hiding and running from them for two days before he came to the lake. He wasn't sure where the guard had been when the wolf ambushed him, but he didn't want to think about it now. Where there was a battle wolf there was always his rider somewhere nearby.

He couldn't stay here, but where could he go?

He watched the Draenei pack their things into a cart and begin to depart from the hill. He owed that girl, and he owed her father for sparing him. They were the connections he had in this strange forest, the only people he knew, he felt lost at the thought of their absence, and now they were leaving...

He rose, hatchet in hand, and still not entirely sure why he was doing this, he followed them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Another cliff hanger. I'm sorry I don't have time to say much tonight or respond to reviews.**

When you woke, the first thing you heard was Father's voice. And he sounded angry. Father was rarely angry, he simply did not get angry about things. You were sure you could count the times you'd seen him angry in your life on your fingers. You were still in the cart, you found, and the sun was setting now, the sky darkening above you. You shivered, both from the fact that you were still in only your underthings and the fear that had re-established itself firmly within you. Father was a ways behind the cart, you could hear him saying something in a harsh tone but you couldn't make out what exactly he was saying. You pulled a blanket about yourself and sat up to peer over the back of the cart.

The sight that met you was startling. There was Father, Mother standing just behind him, talking to the orcish boy from the lake. The boy looked tired, a grimey layer of sweat across his bare skin. He wore only pants and a pair of worn boots, you noticed, and ripped pants at that. The bottoms of both the legs were frayed and torn almost all the way to his knees, and the boots had holes in the toes. He still clutched the hatchet in his right hand, but not threateningly, almost as if he forgot he was holding it, or as if it were a part of him. His long hair was matted, the braids halfway undone and terribly tangled, and his chest was covered in scratches and bruises. The same went for his face, especially around his left eye where it looked like he'd been punched.

You couldn't help but feel terrible for him, especially with that hopeless, desperate expression on his face. His eyes were near empty, void of feeling, as if he were trying to numb away Father's attempts to make him go.

You could hear now what Father was saying.

"Go!" He shouted, waving his hands off in the direction of the road behind them. "You cannot come with us, stop following!" If the orc understood, he did not show it. He merely stood there, head bowed, shoulders slumped out of exhaustion, tired right hand looking as if it _might_ drop that hatchet.

Mother stepped in. She placed a hand on Father's shoulder. "He is no threat," She said. "He has been walking behind us for hours and done nothing. Besides, look at him, he is in shambles. Let us continue so that we may get to Auchindoun by tomorrow morning at least."

Father sighed and seemed to think about this for a moment. "You are right," He finally said, starting toward the cart. He turned toward where the orc still stood on the road. "I will alert someone at Auchindoun about this... Problem... We have acquired."

At this you jumped up from your spot in the cart, pulling a blanket about yourself for modesty. "What? Father, you promised you would not hurt him." You ran to him, but Father said nothing. "You promised." He shrugged your hands off his arm.

"Get in the cart, my daughter. We are running late as it is."

You listened, dismayed, and climbed back into the cart. The rest of the evening you spent in a state of worry, silently angry and hurt over Father's possible betrayal that could come to pass tomorrow morning. You watched the orc linger behind the cart a ways, walking just off the road in the trees. Every so often, when you were sure Father and Mother were not looking, you would lightly toss something out of the cart for the orc to find. A water skin, then a little bag of dried fruit slices, more water, some dried and spiced meat. You watched with careful glances, to see if he picked him up. Every time you dropped something out of the cart, that same expression of surprise and gratitude would come over him, as if he couldn't believe you were helping him. He still seemed empty though, lost, as he dragged himself along behind the cart.

You all had to stop eventually. You camped closed to the road this night, just off behind the first layer of forest. Father seemed stressed as he set up the tents, Mother helped in silence. You weren't sure what to do or say, so you unloaded the beds and benches and dug up a little pit for the fire. Hardly anyone spoke as you ate dinner, except Father.

"I thought we had five waterskins left... Why are there only three?" He asked. It took every last shred of your willpower to just shrug in reply to that question. You'd only ever lied to Father once before. You came home with mud all over your hooves. It hadn't rained that day, or the day before, and you were supposed to have been with friends. Yet here you were, late for evening prayers, covered in mud. You had been in the marsh for half that time that you were supposed to have been playing with friends. You told father you took a shortcut home through the fields, but he could see everything through those guilty eyes of yours. You were caught, and made to help Mother with the spice gardens for two weeks every day after your lessons. You hated working in the spice gardens, it made you smell even more like spices and you didn't get to spend as much time in your own garden or actually playing with your friends. You never lied again, and you made sure not to get caught going to the marshes anymore.

You sat there practically shaking after that question, yet neither of your parents seemed to notice anything. As you ate you kept glancing into the forest, eyes scanning for any sign of the orc. At first there seemed to be nothing beyond the warm light of your family's fire, but then you saw it, the light glinting off of the orc's hatchet as he shifted his sitting position. He was resting against one of the giant twisting trees, one of Father's "missing" waterskins in his left hand. You could see him more clearly now, he seemed to be inspecting the embroidered pouch sheltering and insulating the skin, his gold eyes scanning over each stitch of purple thread that made up the design. A slight smile came to you. Always orcs had seemed fearsome, even when they were just the Shadowmoon orcs who mostly kept to themselves, preferring the magics and blessings of the stars about them and their ancestors over the company of others. Yet with this boy... It was different.

Father's voice sent ripples across your still pool of thoughts. He gathered you and Mother close for prayers. This night you truly had something pray for, or rather _someone._ You prayed for many things. That Father would not betray his promise, that the orc would find someone to help him, someone to take him home... If he even had a home to go back to... Did you even have a home to go back to now? You wondered just how serious this war was, or just how much things might be changing back in Shadowmoon Valley. Your heart longed for home at that moment, it seemed to do so more and more during the last few days.

But you neglected to pray for one thing that night; For the blessing of safety against that war that so plagued your mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm sorry this chapter took me so long. Remember when I said it was going to be no more than 10 chapters? I apparently lied. I'm sorry lol, but this fic is going to be longer. This chapter was hard to write. Time, life, and my paranoia that my writing. I'm sorry but, as usual, I didn't edit this.  
**

As Mother and Father settled down for sleep in the tent, you told them you needed to relieve yourself before bed. You hated the feeling that lie gave you, you decided that after this you wouldn't lie anymore. As you slipped out of the camp, you took with you one of your spare blankets, and met the orc near his tree.

He was slumped a bit and was still as stone when you found him. You almost left, thinking him to be asleep, but as you turned to leave you heard a slight shuffling sound, and a warm hand took your own. You almost jumped out of your skin, gasping, but you forced yourself to calm and met his gaze. As you stared at each other, you were reminded of the moment at the lake. The fear was still there, a prominent shadow behind golden irises, but there was a sliver of new light peeking through like the first moments of a sunrise. All the while, as you both stared, his hand never left your own. Somewhere in the shadows of your mind, you were conscious of that hand. The leather-like but soft feel of his fingers, how massive his hand was compared to your own, the heat that radiated from his palm and how it reminded you of the warmth of Light's never-ceasing presence.

When he stood it was sudden to you, you found yourself stepping back a bit to give him room. He seemed like a giant though he stood no taller than you. His braids were long, you noticed. They hung over his shoulders in a half-undone, tangled mass of thick brown strands. You imagined that if his hair was completely down it would fall to the middle of his back. So unlike you he was! He was everything you were not in appearance and body. Where your skin was pale and dusted with azure, his was a deep, bronze-y tan that was as warm as its coloring. Where your black hair was cut short and the ends curled just a tad, his was long and brown and slightly wavy. Or at least it was made that way by the braids. His eyes were like gold flames, where yours were steam rising off the marsh. And your thin body was fragile in comparison to the brawn of this orc before you. You had horns and he had tusks, you hooves and him feet, you a tail and he... No tail. There were miles of differences between you and he when it came to your bodies. Yet here you were, flame and fog, holding hands in the night-darkened forests of Talador.

"Kaurin." The word was spoken softly, the hand holding yours leaving to bump the chest of its owner. It only took you a moment to realize he was telling you his name.

You repeated the word as steadily as you could, though you could not stop yourself from rolling the 'r' out of habit. All the same, a smile spread across his face. For just a moment you thought you saw the grip of fear falter in his gaze. You decided to give him your own name.

You touched your chest with the hand he'd been holding. You still felt the warmth of his skin. "...Taluulai."

Kaurin stumbled over your name just as much as you'd stumbled over his. He tried it a couple more times and you had to keep yourself from laughing, but then on the last try his voice broke and he stumbled forward, almost falling on you before catching himself. You had forgotten about his wounds, the many scratches and bruises thrashed across his body. He slowly, steadily, leaned back against the tree and tried to slide down to the ground to sit. His face contorted with pain and he flung himself away from the trunk. You almost fainted when you saw the state of his back. Horrible, angry slashes decorated the entirety of his back. You leaned by him and placed your hands against his back, the Light already summoned to your fingertips. He flinched, probably expecting the contact to hurt, and he tried to twist around to see what was happening but you shook your head at him. One by one you traced your fingers over the rigid scabs and sores and cuts, healing them closed and then trying your best to erase them without leaving scars. You doubted he would care about having scars, but still you tried. The more you healed the more he seemed to droop. You were puzzled. Shouldn't he be feeling better now? Perhaps he was just relaxed. But when you finally finished your work, exhausted from the days activities and this final task, he would not respond when you lightly shook him. You crept around him to look at his face. He was asleep. You smiled, knowing you'd done well, and started to lay the blanket over him. So much had changed today. You'd saved an orc, killed a wolf, summoned spells you hadn't thought you were ready for, and now you'd befriended that orc you'd save. Oh how you were content with yourself. But a rustling in the bushes changed all that as you turned to see Father standing over you.

You had never thought of Father as someone to fear before, not even slightly imposing even when he towered over you in height, age, and wisdom. But at that moment, looking up to meet the familiar-but-changed face of his, you feared your Father almost as much as you feared that wolf from the morning.

"Taluulai!" He boomed. Behind you Kaurin started and woke. "My daughter, just what do you think you're doing?"

You swallowed the growing fear inside you. "Father," You weren't sure what to say to him. "He needed help, he was wounded still, I couldn't just leave him here cold and injured. And... And I wanted to meet him." You cursed the little spark of bravery that had pushed you to admit that last part.

The stormy expression you'd seen in Tuurem was suffocating Father's face. You drew back a bit. "To meet him?" Father echoed her words. "So you wanted to meet with an ally of the people who are slaughtering your own?"

"Father, he is no threat! How do you even know he was allied with them? All orcs are not the same, they are individuals." You argued the best you could but it was almost as if Father did not hear any of the positive things you said.

Father threw up his hands. "How do _you_ know he is _not_ allied with them?" In truth, there was no proof he wasn't, but you'd seen enough from him now to know Kaurin was no threat to you. It was obvious, he was just young, he was like you. He didn't know anything, he didn't ask for any of this chaos. You hadn't either.

"Get back to the camp _now_, Taluulai. I am going to end this before something terrible spawns from it. You caught a glimpse of the hammer in his hand, half hidden from you behind his back.

"No!" You stayed between them. "Father you must not! You promised you wouldn't harm him, you must honor your promise! The Light would look down upon you!" You felt so dirty dragging the Light into this and using it as an excuse to save Kaurin, but you were desperate. "Please Father!"

"Taluulai, that is enough! I am trying to protect you, my daughter! Can you not see? Has this orc made you blind? The Iron Horde does _terrible_ things to our people, Taluulai, they would do terrible things to you and I and your mother all the same, too. I heard so much back in Tuurem, I must protect you from them, I am sorry."

"Yes, you heard things from the mouths of bored market women, Father! They say _anything_ to shoo away boredom. It is gossip!"

"Gossip? The deaths of those poor people in that family, were those deaths gossip, Taluulai?" He went to step around you.

"Stop Father!" You hung on his arm again, as you had this morning. You put all your weight into stopping him, but it was like you weighed nothing. You looked Kaurin straight in the eye again, another action mirroring that morning. "Kaurin!" He did not speak Draenei, but you knew he would understand this.

"_Run!_"

* * *

And run he did. _Like a coward,_ Kaurin thought. He was running away from his fight, fleeing like a wolf with its tail between his legs, leaving _Taluulai_ to fend for herself. Briefly he wondered if Draenei parents were anything like orcish parents. Orcish parents tended to lean in the more physical direction of reprimanding their children, a slap to the back of the head, a pinch on the ear, a good beating if they did something _really_ bad. It certainly was effective, he had to admit, he just hoped Taluulai might not get it so bad.

Taluulai... That was the name of the girl who had saved him twice now, healed his wounds, saved his hide from a wolf, protected him, accepted him though she knew almost nothing of him but his name... He was such a coward! He looked down at the hatchet in his hands and then back in the direction of the camp, he could hear shouting, most likely her father. But what could he do for her? Even if he did go back to aid her, how could he help? His presence would just make her father all the more angry, make it ever worse for her. He couldn't kill the Draenei man. First of all because he probably wouldn't stand a chance, secondly because the man was her father!

He had stopped running. He wanted to help, but how? He owed her so much, yet he had no way of repaying her and every time he came near them he caused problems. He stood as still as stone, debating what to do, listening to the voices grow louder, gruffer, more... _Orc-like..._ He snapped out of his thoughts, slamming shut the door to his mind to let the primal part of him in, the hunter within emerging from the shadows like the wolves his clan so loved, like his own wolf who he so missed... And listened. He listened hard, pointed ears swiveling and twitching. No longer was the voice that of Taluulai's father, somewhere during his short escape it had changed. Now there was more than one gruff voice, four at least, laughing and talking in the familiar language of his people. He crept off in the direction of the voices, still listening hard, trying to pin down what they were saying. He came to the road, the very one they had been traveling on earlier, the very one Taluulai and her family were camped beside. And on that road stood five orcish riding wolves, but six orcs in total. Each one was heavily armored, and they had their wolves walking slowly, leisurely chatting among each other. But one seemed almost angry, worked up and bristling. It was the one who lacked a wolf, instead made to go on by foot. From the shadows Kaurin watched, focusing further, stalking along behind the underbrush and trees.

"...That damned slave boy, the escapee who jumped out of that crate from the shipment that came in from the Iron Docks. Scrawny little thing killed my wolf, put a hatchet in her head!" Kaurin recognized that orc now, it was the guard, the one who had been pursuing him. There was no denying who this orc was after hearing that.

A second orc spoke, "Must be a hunter, all the Frostwolf boys are, can't find a decent warrior among them." He felt his blood boil at the insult but compressed the anger that bubbled in his veins. He'd thought his pride to be gone, but he was clearly wrong.

"Don't be underestimating a hunter from that clan, only clan I've seen that's more skilled than the Frostwolves when it comes to hunting are the Thunderlord clan members." A third orc spoke up from the back of the group. "But the Thunderlord orcs are crazy, cause more carnage with just a bow than a squad of Warsong boys with guns." A couple of the others laughed at this, but the guard who'd been chasing him huffed in annoyance.

"I don't give a damn how good or bad that boy is as a hunter, I want his head, blood for blood! Thanks to him I don't have a mount and I'm miles from where I'm supposed to be."

"Bah, if you're so upset about not having a mount, hop up here and I'll take you to an outpost." The second orc spoke again. Kaurin froze, muscles tensed in fear and worry. The group was headed straight for Taluulai... Her family didn't stand a chance... "Now, lets ride."

That last sentence sent Kaurin into a panic.

He was sprinting then, trying his hardest to make it to the camp first, if he could at least lead them away from the group or offer some sort of protection, something to pay her back for everything he owed her. _To prove he wasn't such a coward._

* * *

You sat down, fists clenched, as Father continued to yell. Your fear was gone now, replaced by an ever growing anger. Why wouldn't he just listen to you? Just this once treat you as something other than a child?! You refused to respond to him now, too frustrated, afraid you would say something you did not mean. You buried your face in your hands for a moment, trying to collect yourself, to stop the tears and calm yourself before more frustration. But you thought of Kaurin and an unusual sadness took you.

You wondered where he'd literally run off to. Was he safe? Afraid? Hurt again? Too tired to run any further? Why did you wonder so much? Father was in some ways correct, you should not care for this orc as much as you do. Yet you cannot help but care. The Light cares about all things... That justification for your feelings felt empty, half-hearted. You felt as if you wanted to curl in on yourself, like the petals of a wilting flower. Was this your innocent mind dying, this aching, furling flower? Were you still lost in the gossip you had just ridiculed a half hour earlier? Was this fear? Hurt? What was this? You felt numb, you blocked every sound around you, your eyes locked on the flickering flames of the campfire, your tail coiled around the leg of your bench, you picked at the tiny hole on the side of your pant leg. You were confused. You were numb. But why were you numbing yourself? Numbing yourself from what?

Your mind finally answered you for once. _Kaurin,_ it said. It was correct.

And then all chaos broke loose when the orc who so occupied your thoughts came tearing through the bushes and into your camp.

He was wide-eyed, hyperventilating, looking close to losing consciousness where he stood. His arms waved wildly, pointing to himself and then the road. He fell to his knees, tired and sweat covered- you noticed- head hanging, but eyes staring up at you and Father and Mother pleadingly. Father stepped forward and for a moment you thought Father might try to hurt Kaurin again and you were afraid, but then you noticed that the tent post hammer was absent from his hands. He walked right past Kaurin, apparently understanding what you could not, the boy's message. Or rather warning.

He went right out of the camp, going the road to stand by the cart, his eyes locked on the direction from which we'd come. The stormy expression was different now, it was changed, and if even possible... Darker. The numb feeling within you went away. Now you were painfully certain of what you felt. Fear. Fear so thick, so toxic, so enveloping, so suffocating that it came over you and clouded around you like mist from the marsh. All you could see through that fog were Kaurin's two golden orbs. You read the script of emotion within them without even having to think about what it said. It was like the prayers you'd been reciting each day since the moment your mouth formed words. Fear, more fear, fear in the form of the golden fires that were Kaurin's eyes. You were both so consumed that when the cry of a wolf split through the fog- sharp and quick, horribly painful, liking ripping bandages off a wound after they'd crusted to it- you were unable to restrain the scream that appeared out of the void that had been ripped open. All the fear was pouring out of you now. It was flooding everything.

It flooded you as Father ran from the road, grabbed you, and took off into the forest. It flooded you as you watched Mother pick up her book and Kaurin find a broken branch on the ground to partner with his hatchet as weapons. It flooded you when Father let go of you so you could both run faster. It flooded you as all the little branches from small trees and tall bushes made criss-crossed cuts all over your skin. It flooded you as you caught sight of a wolf running just off to your side, its rider swinging an axe almost as big as you to cut himself and his wolf a clear pathway to pursue you. It flooded you when you heard Mother's scream and Father's shout and suddenly you only heard your hoofsteps as you ran.

At that moment you stopped. You turned around. It was a horrible mistake. Mother was being ripped to shreds, Father throwing all his weight on the wolf that was killing her, Kaurin beating on the wolf's rider with his hatchet and stick. You felt helpless as you watched, and more than that, you felt useless. You had to help! You couldn't just stand there. There was no debating this time for your fight. You called all the Light you could bring to yourself, but your grip on it was shaky, shakier than your quivering fingers.

You were failing, failing your family, failing Mother and Father, failing Kaurin. You wanted to dissolve into tears, you wanted to scream, you wanted to go home. But you couldn't because life was forcing you to stay, to watch, to hear Mother's screaming. It was forcing you to try. And you did try, but each bolt of Light you sent at the rider did next to nothing. You tried healing Mother, but by the time you summoned forth a spell her voice was nothing more than a gurgling, lost beneath Kaurin's rage-filled howls and Father's desperate cries. Where was the Light that had been with you that morning? Where was the warmth that always resided in the back of your mind? Everything was gone, being ripped apart.

Four more wolves appeared, but one carried two orcs on its back. And now you did dissolve into tears. You dissolved into tears as they swarmed you and Father and Kaurin. They beat you, the wolves snapped at your throat, you screamed and cried. But someone was keeping the jaws from ending you. Kaurin was huddled over you as they beat you both with maces and fists and feet. Someone eventually ripped Kaurin off of you... But you will never know which one did it because a second later a mace struck you and all was lost.

When you woke, there was a strange grinding, buzzing sound coming from below you, and the unnerving feeling moving very, very quickly.


	9. Chapter 9

**This update certainly took a while. There's been a lot to do in the last couple of weeks. I'm really behind in school thanks to some unexpected things occurring. Trying to get caught up is like trying to write with no muse. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm thinking of putting out a new story soon about my druids, btw.**

**Also, we are now in part two of this story: Survive.**

You had never felt so much pain in your life. When you opened your eyes, everything seemed to be swimming in the air around you yet zooming past at the same time. The buzzing, grinding, humming sounds added to your misery, when you tried to lift your hands to cover your ears you found they were bound behind you. You were laying on your stomach on a metal floor to some sort of... cart, or so you guessed it was a cart. A cart that ran on its own, too, for you could see no wolves or Talbuk or Elekk pulling it. You could have been wrong, though, for your vision was still off and you couldn't fully see the front of the cart. But what animal could move so quickly without ever seeming to tire? It was disturbing, even more so because of your fuzzy mind and the confusion of how you even came to be on this cart to begin with. Through the grated bottom of the cart, you could see the road, a blur of pale stones and red dirt. You stared at it for a while, your mind feeling empty, almost blissful in its confusion. But you couldn't shake the underlying feeling that something was wrong. Almost involuntarily you tried to heal yourself as you lay in a daze, but the cart flew around a corner so fast you were nearly airborne for a second.

Something warm rolled and crashed into you as the cart settled back onto the road again. You twisted around, trying to free yourself from the corner you were now pinned into. Your eyes fell on a familiar face, and suddenly you remembered why you were on this cart and everything that had happened. And you did not think you would ever stop crying.

It had been Kaurin who crashed into you, his tan face marked by curling, twisting black bruises and the long, crusted over cut that slashed across his forehead. And you felt bad for him instantly, but you couldn't focus on it. The sorrow inside you was too great. Mother was gone... Dead... For there was no way she could have survived that attack. Her throat had been torn open completely... There had been _so much_ blood. Suddenly working in the spice gardens with her did not sound so bad. Suddenly you longed for the smell of spices. Suddenly the sound of her screaming-turned-gurgling invaded your ears though she was not there to make it so... And it would never leave...

I can still hear it, even now.

Father was gone too, that was something you knew as you remembered the attack. You could still feel the warmth of his hand as he dragged you through the forest, as he tried to save you. You had always been close to Father for he had always been there. He was the one to wash any wounds you had, he was the one to measure you for the tailor, he was the one who held your hand at the market as a small child. He was gone but it did not seem real to you, the pain at the thought of losing him was unbearable, but when you tried to make yourself realize that it had happened- that he was actually gone and you were not just imagining a world without him- it did not seem real. The horrible pain that accompanied Mother's death was not here, it simply did not come. All you felt when you thought about the loss of Father was a stunned emptiness. The world didn't seem real, for a moment you wished it wasn't.

You cried for what seemed like forever yet no time at all. The world had no meaning now, time and distance were nothing while you laid in that cart. Your parents were dead, your body ached, you could not go home- if there even was a home to go back to, your world had been tossed into war and chaos, and now you were in a horribly fast cart headed for who knew where. You certainly didn't.

Every part of you seemed to hurt in some way. Your cheek was shoved against the grate floor of the cart, Kaurin's broad body pinned you into a corner, your bruised head throbbed and pulsed with the beating of your heart, your wrists and ankles were raw from being bound, your very mind itself was in pain as you tried to make sense of everything that had happened. The sky was gold, the sun setting again. You were reminded of yesterday, of everything you'd just lost. You imagined that if you were an old tower the seed of fear that had planted at your base would be weaving the thorn-covered vines of Danger and Unknown all about you, its roots tearing apart your foundation, beckoning you to crumble into a thousand little pieces. You felt like crumbling, too.

The cart bounced on over the road, the sky grew darker and darker, the trees above looked twisted and gnarled with the death of daylight. You wondered where _the _Light had gone. Why were you abandoned? Why were your parents dead? Had you not served faithfully enough? Was a lesson to be learned and taken from these tragedies? Was it simply your time to go? Or was the Light not strong enough against this foe? Did it struggle, just like you? You found no answers, only more questions, as the night continued its dark march across Talador's sky.

Some time later that night, as you lay there in a hazy existence that was somewhere between awake and dead, you felt droplets of rain on your aching flesh. It seemed that the Night wanted to mourn with you, that the land felt just as hopeless as you. You cried with the rain, cherishing the way that it accepted your tears and washed away the dried blood and anguished hurt of what was your life now. The air grew cold, a harsh chill joining forces with the wind, but you felt little of it. Kaurin was unknowingly keeping you warm, even in this weather his skin was like fire. You worried for a moment that maybe he wasn't supposed to be like this. Perhaps he was sick. Was it the cut, had it become infected? Was there simply so much injury to his body that he was sick in trying to repair himself.

You suddenly noticed that the cart had been going steadily along the road for a while now. You took this precious moment of clarity to try and cast a quick healing spell for the both of you. You pressed yourself to him, not hard to do with the way his blunt weight pinned you against the cart walls. You searched for the Light, you dug deep into yourself to try and dredge up what little hope was left in you. You tried and tried to cast, but each time you flickered out like a fire with no air. It was like the rain had truly dampened you, though you knew it had been something else entirely that put out the Light's flame. You'd lost your connection, you'd lost your flame, your spark.

You'd lost your faith.

You wailed your grief into the night, your voice lost in the whir of the cart and the thrashing of the wind. You didn't care if the cart's driver heard you, though it seemed he didn't. You didn't care that it was useless to scream, or that it didn't make you feel any better. In truth you couldn't really stop yourself. You cried and sobbed and howled your grief into the storm that pummeled you. But then, through the tide of tears that surged from you, you caught sight of something warm in the darkness, something gold, something soft but sharp. Kaurin was staring at you, gold eyes glistening even in the thick darkness. You stared back and your wailing stopped, replaced by a hollow sense of exhaustion. Kaurin shifted, moving back from you, trying to give you space, but coming up unsuccessful. It was good that he couldn't move though. You needed him at that moment. He was your last lifeline, or so you felt. You wondered if that had been how he felt about you after that morning at the lake. You wished you could pull your arms free so that you could pull him to you. You had nothing but him now, this orc who you hardly knew yet seemed so familiar to you now. For a moment you thought you might cry again. You were surprised when you didn't.

You don't remember when it was that you fell asleep exactly, you just remember lingering there for a while as you had earlier. It felt good to rest, though you felt truly pathetic and helpless lying there finding comfort from not being able to fight anymore. All the same you couldn't fight what you were feeling. Toward the exhaustion or toward the orc at your side.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey there! Finally getting out this update that I've been trying to get out forever. It,s not a very good chapter, just a filler for until more events happen. Pretty soon there will be some time jumps, once these two get to the place where they'll be for a long while and traveling is over.**

**Reviews: **

**Shayde F. Revelle: The first sentence is supposed to be that way because it's Taluulai telling us the story as if we were her, and also reliving the story in her mind as she remembers it, so we are sort of remembering it with her, through her eyes... Sort of as her? Does this make sense?**

**Ihsan997: I feel guilty for being proud of the fact I made you feel that way lol. Am I mean? xD**

**Silverquis: I'm glad you like it so much! I hope I continue to do make you like it :D**

**Alright, enjoy this chapter... At least I hope you will because I didn't lol. It's so boring :P**

The air smelled salty-sweet when you opened your eyes the next day. The rain had stopped but your torn clothes were still damp and clung to your skin uncomfortably. You shifted slightly, wincing at the pain in your head and hands, to your momentary horror you wondered if you might lose fingers. They were numb, though whether from cold or lack of circulation you were unsure. Kaurin lay still beside you, eyes closed, the bruises on his face looking more painful than ever. He was still warm, the heat radiating off of him almost unnaturally. This slightly startled you. Were even Orcs supposed to get so hot? Was there something wrong with him, some internal damage?

You felt off as you laid there. The air was still around you, like Kaurin, and then you noticed it. You were still too, the entire cart had stopped, and the two of you were alone. You could hear no footsteps around the cart, and from what little you could see outside of the cart it seemed that no one was around. The driver was gone from the driver's seat of the cart, too. You were alone... You had a chance to escape. You scrambled, trying to sit up, slowly trying to make some progress with your throbbing head. The whole world twisted in front of you when you finally managed to come to a sitting position, nausea seeped through you and you vomited over the side of the cart.

There were still black spots, like splotches of indigo ink or the dye of Father's shirt, splattered across your field of vision when you stopped retching and looked around. The cart was parked just off to the side of a dirt-paved road. The trees are smaller here, you note, and then you see why. Down the road, where it bends and begins to curve out of sight, you see the coast. The sand is gold, and the dune grass that fades away toward the beach is the palest shade of honey-green you've ever seen. It would be beautiful if not for the patches of blackened earth and the looming, red and black ships puffing poisonous clouds into the pristine sky, oil into the brilliant teal waters. And the armies of Orcish, Iron Horde soldiers piling onto the mainland out of smaller boats. There are numerous tents and piles of supplies dotting the beach already, just out of reach of the tide. Guards and soldiers and what you guess are workers mill about, some busy, others resting, some merely idle. You can't see all the way down the beach from your position inside the cart, not that you care to. You want to leave, flee as soon as possible, find help or at least hide.

You turn to Kaurin, finding him groggily waking up. His eyes look tired and empty, far off. It worries you when he at first doesn't respond to your touch, belatedly flinching after what is almost a minute of your hand resting on his shoulder. His skin feels like fire, like smoldering coals but soft. It doesn't quite burn you, but it is much too hot for you to keep your hand there comfortably for too long. He glances up at you briefly, his gaze only locking with yours for a second before he goes back to staring straight ahead at nothing, as if even looking elsewhere is too much strain. You inspect him a bit more closely now, in the end not even needing to think back on your limited knowledge of first aid to know he's ill. You can see it all about him. In the way his skin has paled, in the emptiness of his eyes, how weakly he lays there saying and doing nothing. At first you think it's his head injury doing this to him, but when you search for other wounds you see another possibility of what could be causing this. His back, which you had just healed only two or so nights ago was ripped open again, covered in gashes and bruises and puncture wounds.

The sight of it made you grimace, and you tried to call upon the Light again, only to remember you could not. You inspected his damaged back again, noting the obvious infection already forming. Helplessness crept over you. What now? You couldn't carry Kaurin, he was too heavy, and you could never bring yourself to leave him there- even after all of this. You heard footsteps then, the cracking of twigs under heavy boots and the clinking of plated armor. With no other choice than to duck down into the cart, you pulled Kaurin close to you and burried his face against your neck and closed your eyes so they could not see that you were both awake.

When you dared to peek, you saw the cart driver climbing back onto the front of the cart. And then you were moving again. You felt sick, horror blending with the helplessness. You had just missed your one chance to escape. You would perhaps never get another opportunity like that unless it was death now. You forced yourself not to cry and stared at the ground through the floor of the cart again as you had done the previous day. But you didn't have to do that too long because within less than an hour the cart stopped, loud, new sounds replacing the rumbling of the cart all around you.

The worn dirt path had given way to sand, and the shadows of Orcish soldiers danced across the soft paleness. Voices spoke in low, harsh tones, and you watched the ground become flooded by pairs of black, armored boots around the cart. Now you closed your eyes tight and tried to act unconscious once more, praying they wouldn't notice your panicked, near hyperventilating breaths.

Suddenly you were yanked away from the warmth of Kaurin's fever-wracked body by rough hands and thrown down onto the sand. Something prodded you sharply in the side, a foot you supposed.

"Get up Draenei!" A female Orc said in Draenei. The command made you flinch and carefully you opened your eyes and stood. You were surrounded by soldiers of the Iron Horde, each and every one of them sneering or glaring you with eyes filled with contempt and hatred.

Kaurin was suddenly dumped beside you, he landed with a heavy thud and a groan of pain. It took everything in you to stop yourself from coming to his aid, lest you provoke the hundreds of orcs around you. But then the woman you'd told you to stand kicked his already ruined back. And you could stand it no longer.

"Please stop this!" You pleaded, "He cannot fight you and is already down, there is no need for this."

The woman that stood over you was one of the most beautiful and most terrifying people you'd ever seen. Her skin was an ashy color and her eyes a feral yellow in color. Long red hair hung straight to her mid back and she was dressed full in black armor, a huge axe in her right hand. She stared down at you, face betraying no emotion beside ire. Those yellow eyes of hers tore into you when they met your own, the instinct to hide behind the very person you were defending was overwhelming.

"Funny that you defend one who could have been your enemy, little Draenei." The woman yanked her away from Kaurin and shoved her nearly into the wall of soldiers that surrounded them. "You are two things for going against me... Brave... And very, very foolish." Before you even knew it happened she'd kicked you in the chest, all air leaving your lungs, leaving you a gasping mess on the sand. The Orcs around you laughed.

"You will learn your place here, _slave_, as we all learn must learn our place. Now get up, be silent, or you will lose the tongue that spoke against me!"

You scrambled to your feet as best you could and stood beside Kaurin who was now kneeling rather than laying, finally somewhat awake. He was staring at the woman with golden eyes that were both tired and angry. The woman barked something at Kaurin in Orcish. He tried to stand but couldn't and you helped him to his feet, his heavy form leaning on you. Your chest, where you'd been kicked, screamed against Kaurin's weight. But you held him. You were prodded from behind once you had both settled, and the crowd of Orcs parted when the woman snapped at them too, creating a pathway that lead to a small boat. On the boat were other Draenei, all of whom looked as terrified as you. When they saw you approaching with Kaurin leaning on you, they made room for you.

You were both shoved into the boat, almost landing on the others. _Slaves_, you cringed at what she'd called you all. This is what you were now... Slaves... You couldn't wrap your mind around this yet as you sat in silence on the boat. No one around you dared speak so long as the woman was around, but that all stared at you and Kaurin, though mostly at Kaurin. Most of your people on the boat were older than you, though there were some your age and even a few that were younger. All of them stared at Kaurin in obvious fear and nervousness. You wanted to tell them that he was a victim too, but you were too afraid to speak now. The woman's earlier threat echoed in your mind and scooted a bit closer to Kaurin.

After a few minutes of sitting there, and a couple other Draenei joining on the boat ride that would lead surely lead them to death, the woman climbed into the boat with a couple other soldiers who began to push away from the shore toward the ships.

Now more than ever you wished to call upon the Light, to bring its wrath down upon this _Iron Horde,_ to save all these people, to save yourself. But still nothing would come when you tried, nothing but emptiness and hollow fear. You hung your head, staring down at your still bound hands and your loosely bound feet that were barely given any leeway to walk. You held back tears that threatened to spill into the blue waters beneath you. Beside you, Kaurin slipped his hand into yours and gave a weak squeeze, as much comfort as he could offer.

You squeezed back, for all it was worth.


	11. Chapter 11

**It's been almost a month since I've updated. So long. I feel so irresponsible:P But here I am with another update finally. Sadly, this is nothing exciting other than a couple of revelations. I guess not really a couple, just one. Meh, this chapter is another filler chapter of angst. All aboard the angst train.**

**Would you like a beverage to go along with your angst? No?**

**I don't know what I'm doing with life anymore lol. Take teh chapter. As usual I didn't edit, please ignore my mistakes I'm sorry I know I'm such a horrible person I'm going to stop rambling now I promise. Oh wait, one more thing. I have two stories I want to write but I don't know which one I should write first. One involves Night Elves, the other involves mainly Blood Elves and Humans. If anyone has a suggestion about which I should write first, please tell me in a PM or a review. I should note that both those stories wouldn't be out until after Exist is finished- actually scratch that because I'm horrible and can't be trusted. The stories will be out sometime during our lifetime-hopefully. Just someone tell me which one to do first please lol.**

**Anyway, here's the chapter.**

When you boarded the ship you felt like collapsing. You were herded to a ladder, trying your best not to stumble with clumsy hooves that had never set foot on a boat before now. You remember the one time that you were invited to go sailing along the coast to see the giant, glowing salt-water marsh mushrooms under the light of the eclipse. You had wanted so badly to go, but Father never liked the marshes, he liked the idea of you going into them even less. He'd told you no, as you had expected. Tending to the spice gardens had been especially boring that day... You wouldn't mind tending to them at all now.

You were thankful that the rungs of the ladder were more like steps, wide and flat pieces of black metal to match the rest of the ship, you only wished they weren't so slippery. At least they had removed the ropes around your wrists and ankles before making you climb. Panic set in when you reached the middle of the ladder, about halfway up the ship. All to your right you could see the Talador coast. You were leaving... You were leaving, captured by the Iron Horde, being sent away as a slave to who knew where! You were a slave now... You were probably going to die... Your parents were dead, your people being massacred, your world was being destroyed... And you were never going home.

You would have fallen from the ship if not for Kaurin, your fingers had threatened to give out on you with the hopelessness that sat thick in your bones. He must have seen the terror in your face because he pushed you gently from behind, tapping your back with a shaky hand. When you looked down at him before climbing once more you saw how he struggled to hold on and you felt selfish. You were not the only one suffering here. Kaurin and all those people on the boat were suffering just as you were. Perhaps even more. You swallowed away the sadness and fear and grabbed the next rung. And the one after that, and the one after that too, and so on until you had reached the ship's deck.

When you did finally reach the top, you were immediately shoved to your knees and told to sit and stay in poorly spoken Draenei by another Orcish soldier. Once all of the others from the boat were sitting in a line beside you did the woman from earlier appear up over the side of the ship and onto the deck. She spat two harsh words at the soldiers at her side and they scampered off with quick salutes, they returned bearing chains and manacles. One by one, down the line, you and each of the others were cuffed and then shackled and then shackled together. Afterward the woman told you stand and you were lead down metal stairs into the darkness of the ship below deck.

The chains rattled with your every step, tinkling like music, a lighthearted sound unless you knew the source. It mocked your every movement. You were all silent as you were lead down into the dark of the ship's hold, no one even daring to whisper. The clank of plate-clad feet behind you urged the line forward at an almost frantic pace. It was strange and disturbing to you, the way that you eagerly went down into the unknown just to escape those that now owned you.

The air down in the hold was stale and dank, you shivered as it enveloped you and all light seemed to disappear once you were off the steps. Finally one of the soldiers who had cuffed you came around to the front of the line with a torch and lit another on the wall. You were shocked by what you saw. Dozens of Draenei, young and old, were shoved against one another for as far as you could see in the circle of light created by the torch. As more torches were lit and the hold grew brighter, you could see them packed together on the grated floor, all nearly naked and shivering, all silent save for the occasional sniffle or cough, a ragged breath. The little clothes they wore were mere rags now, threadbare and shredded, full of holes.

There weren't any Orcs from what you could see, only Draenei, Kaurin stuck out like a sore thumb. All eyes in the room were on your little group from the boat as they lead you to a less crowded area and locked the long line of chain that bound you all to one another into the wall. The looks Kaurin got varied, but not by much. The younger Draenei were either curious or terrified of him, the older ones looked either spiteful or pitying. But all eyes held fear, and you hated that your own did too. You slumped against the wall, Kaurin doing the same and everyone else eventually following. Then the Iron Horde soldiers disappeared up the steps, the torches went out one by one, and you were all left in the dark.

Eventually the ship moved. A loud humming sound filled the hold, much like that of the cart but deeper and more muted by the thick, metal walls that surrounded you. Kaurin had started to lean on you at one point, asleep you guessed. You leaned back, glad for the warmth he bought once again. Even though there were no guard, at least you couldn't see any, around no one spoke a single word. As the hours passed one of the younger girls cried quietly for a while before full on wailing. Others began to cry too. The sound was haunting, as if these were the cries of the already dead and not the still dying. But there is only a thin line between living and dead, and these people danced so precariously on the line itself, tipping from one side to the other and then back again. Weeping filled both the ship's hold and your ears, and when you couldn't bear to hear it any longer, you forced yourself into an empty sleep.

Waking up, the air was noticeably colder. The metal ship walls were unbearably frigid through your shirt. You curled your tail around your legs and pulled your knees to your chest. Uncontrollably, you shivered for the next couple of hours. At least they were quiet hours, no one cried, no one screamed, no one wailed or wept. But now the hold seemed eerily empty, and with slightly adjusted eyes you could make out the shivering forms of all the other Draenei huddled together for warmth.

Beside you Kaurin shivered too. He was awake now, sitting more away from the walls than before, like you. If he was cold too, you knew it had to be worse than you'd thought. Just where were you, that the waters of the sea and the air around you was so icy? In Shadowmoon it rarely ever got this cold and you had only seen snow once in your life. Was it snowing outside right now, you wondered.

For a little while longer you guessed at where you could be and where you might be going. You could only barely recall the maps Father had of this continent on Draenor, only able to image bits and pieces of it and of what he'd told you of the lands. You wished you could remember more. But still you could remember a little bit. There was a jungle, hot and wild, to the far north where two Orcish clans vastly different from one another lived. There was an open plain to the west, a land of legend called Nagrand that even most Draenei knew of. To the southwest of Shadowmoon was Arak, a dangerous land filled with bird people and monstrous ravens that haunted the skies of southern Shadowmoon too. You'd heard many terrifying stories of that place back in Elodor, though few ever dared to venture there. There was then, of course, Talador, and to the west of that another jungle called Tanaan, though you didn't know much of that place, like most of the other Orcish lands, however there was supposedly a hidden Draenei village somewhere in there.

You thought over the lands. None of those places were reputably cold. This could perhaps just be another odd snowstorm, like the one that had hit Shadowmoon in your childhood, but something told you that this was different. You thought over the map again, sure you were missing something... And then you remembered the final land, far to the northwest of any place you'd ever been. There had been little that Father had been to tell you of that place, only that the seas were rough with cold and violent storms and that the land was locked in a state of forever-turmoil. Cold against hot, ice against fire. You still didn't quite understand what he'd meant by that, but you were certain now that you were experience the "cold" part of that turmoil. Yes, you had to be off the coast of this northern land, where else could you possibly be in this cold?

You shivered, but not necessarily from the cold this time. You were so far from home now. What would this land be like? Was this even your final destination? So many questions... So much fear... You hid your face against your knees and prayed that the Light grant you some sort of warmth to ease both your body and your heart.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you guys so much for your reviews. Glad to know that you like it, and that I'm not a bad person xD. I know this chapter isn't much, and that it took a while to get out. A lot of stuff picked up pace recently. Online school is still school, even if I don't really have to show up anywhere, there's still tests and stuff- midterms being the issue this time. Anyway, I hope that you like this chapter more than I do. I also hope it's not full of too many mistakes. I've had people tell me I should edit my work more, but I like to edit everything at the end.**

**Also, after this, things will start to pick up more.**

**Enjoy :)**

It was nearly a week before the ship landed, you had counted the days by the number of times you were let out of the hold. Once a day the door would open, light would flood in, and the soldiers would march you and all the hundreds of others out onto the ship's deck. You would eat and relieve yourself, the sick were given medicines to just barely keep them from dying, and you would be given a couple of minutes to breathe and take in the sights around you before being shoved back down into the musty darkness of the hold. You were all given blankets by day three, seeing as one of the younger girls had died of the cold, but they stunk and had many holes and worn patches. Better than nothing, you supposed, better than freezing to death.

Kaurin was among those who received medicine. His wounds were infected, as you had suspected back on the cart when he was feverish. He was still burning to the touch, even in the cold, you wondered how hot he would be without the snow and icy seas. Yet despite being sick, he seemed to be thriving as far as his demeanor went. The first day you'd all been let out, his eyes lit up upon seeing the rocky coast the ship traveled along. The coast was unlike anything you'd laid eyes on before. Huge spires of black rock scraped the stormy skies and massive sheets of ice crumbled away into the sea. But the most surprising and terrifying thing about the land at your side were the plumes of black smoke and gray ash that would mix in the clouds and came from... Open pits of fiery magma and molten rock. It was beautiful and terrifying, just like all other Orcish things and people you'd come across so far.

This was another Orcish land, home to a clan of hunters known for their bond with the wolves who shared the land with them. The Frostwolf Clan, that was what they were called, you remembered. You had glanced at Kaurin as he basked in the cold air of this northern land of frost and fire. _Frostfire Ridge..._ The name echoed in your mind. Was this Kaurin's home, and the Frostwolf Orcs his people? He seemed so much more lively here, the look of hopelessness you'd seen in Talador had gone. It had been replaced with a longing, the driving force to run to those you loved in the place where you belong. Thoughts of Shadowmoon made tears threaten to spill and freeze against cold cheeks in the icy wind. You looked away from the jagged spires and smoky, snowy skies, away from the lively golden eyes so warm against the ice. Only for the bearer of those eyes to pull you right back.

Kaurin took you by your hand and pulled you nearer to him, pointing to the ridge. He spoke quietly to you with words that were so foreign to your ears, but the gentle hints of excitement were so present in them. His smile broadened as he spoke and motioned to various peaks and smoke plumes. You found yourself comforted as you sat near him, enjoying the heat he radiated and his happiness. But his eyes were shining, as if his own tears threatened and then you realized the pain he was dealing with.

Here was his home, sitting right before him... Just out of reach. The place he loved and longed to be in, full of people he no doubt missed and worried for. You imagined yourself drifting along the coast of Shadowmoon, reaching desperately for home, only to find you were confined to a ship that never seemed to land...

Kaurin's voice eventually died away, leaving the both of you in a sea of sorrow that was of your own creation.

Then, a day after those few minutes on deck, the ship did land.

You were dragged out in your chains after being kicked awake by guards. The blankets were ripped away from you, tossed into the sea once you were out of the hold. The ship had come to dock in a near-empty harbor with only two other ships nearby. Hulking, monstrously large, meaty workers roamed the blackened rocky slabs that made up the harbor. Ogres... Being's you'd only heard stories of, just like many things you'd encountered on this journey, you found. One ogre in particular caught your attention like a fly in the silken death sentence of a spider's web. It had two heads and worse loose, slightly torn robes that looked barely comfortable against the freezing wind and reminded you all the more of just how could you felt yourself. Its two sets of eyes did not blink in unison, and two separate voices grumbled out of two separate mouths. You shivered in both disgust and against the wind.

You were shoved forward, stumbling slightly, almost falling down the gangplank and into Kaurin. Cautiously you hurried down, eager to be off of the steep, slippery metal beneath your followed Kaurin, gaze clinging to his ruined back so that you did not lose yourself. Only when the line before you stopped did you take in the rest of your surroundings. Snow-caked towers of stone stretched above you, armed orcs littering their rooftops, and ripped banners whipped about in the harsh wind. Pyres and braziers littered the edges of makeshift pathways like little beacons throughout the stone harbor. Beyond the towers were numerous pens, inside them stood massive gray-furred boars, and beyond the pens were a number of other buildings and a few huts. More ogres milled about in that direction, most of them appearing to be guards of some sort, armoured with red leather and black metal, axes with blades as long as you stood tall at their hips or on their backs.

But it was what lay behind the buildings and boar pens that really interested- and rather frightened- you. Cliffs of black rose up into the sky, jagged and towering, as ominous as gathering stormclouds and just as dark, and peaking up from above the edges of the cliffs was the silhouetted form of a mountain.

You were given no more time to look, however, as the line suddenly started forward and you were ushered ahead by stern-faced guards. You craned your neck in an effort to see where the line was headed and when you saw the front, only twenty or so people in front of you and Kaurin, your heart gave a lurch in fear. At the front of the line was the two headed ogre you'd watched from the ship's deck, and he was performing spells... On the other slaves. You watched as red runes appeared on the victim's arms and the woman held her arms in pain, gasping and stumbling as a final spell was cast on her and then she was grabbed by the horn and hauled away with a look of terror on her blue face.

You shuffled your hooves in place out of nervousness, your fingers picking at the strings of your tattered pants. You longed to move more freely as to distract yourself against what you knew was to come, but there was no breaking through chains and manacles.

Suddenly one of the soldiers approached and disconnected Kaurin's bindings from the main chain that held you all in line. Roughly Kaurin was dragged away, made to stand off to the side. Out of instinct you reached for him as he was taken away, "Kaurin-"

You barely caught yourself, snapping your mouth shut and putting your bound hands back down, staring at your hooves in fear of being reprimanded by the soldiers. Luckily none of the soldiers seemed to care. You snuck a glance at Kaurin, finding him watching you, uneasiness decorating his face. A flicker of worry danced through gold eyes, you felt the dancer dressed as fear move through your own.

The line moved faster than you thought it would. Soon, you found yourself standing before the Ogre mage. "Arms out." One soldier barked in heavily accented Draenei. You did as you were told, raising trembling arms, hands shaking against the shackles that seemed to be the heaviest thing you'd ever worn. The Ogre mage grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you nearer, meaty fist bigger than your head yanking harshly. Your surprised gasps changed into panicked breaths as you felt magic swirl around you. The spell hit you full force, a burning sensation flooding the exposed underside of both your arms. It reminded you of the time you'd gotten crushed spices into a nasty cut on your hand by accident. It stung and burned, the fiery pain moving up your arm to your elbow, the red runes you'd seen on the other woman's arms appearing on your own. Tears gathered along your lower lids and you cried out as the final rune was cast. You stood stunned, feeling faint, you were not prepared for the final spell.

Magic snaked into your mind, you could _feel_ it shifting things within you, your thoughts suddenly made a mess. You stumbled back away from the mage, momentarily forgetting the pain in your arms as your vision went as white as the snow that fell around you. You heard voices speaking a language you did not know, words you could not understand filling your mind and then becoming... Clear. Suddenly, you could understand those harsh words, the language becoming familiar. It was overwhelming, you felt yourself falling as you took another panicked step away from the mage.

Suddenly an angry voice cut through the white. "_Get up girl!"_

The white disappeared to reveal the Orc woman from the ship, her eyes filled with fury. "Get up," She hissed again, pulling you by your still throbbing arms to your feet. "Move!"

Still dazed you were half dragged, half guided to a new line of slaves. "What... What has happened to me?" You froze. The words that had left your lips were not of your own, spoken in a language that was not of your people. You had spoken Orcish, and the woman had too. _You could understand Orcish?_ It had to be the spell, you realized as the guards roughly chained you back in line, Kaurin chained up just behind you.

"But... How?" You whispered, the spell unfathomable. You had spent your life surrounded by the magic of the Light and a few spells of the arcane, most of the arcane magics being centered around city defense crystals and shields. Magic so powerful and strange was not something you were used to. "I do not understand..."

"Are you ok?" Kaurin's whispering startled you out of your daze and you jumped. "That magic hurt you."

A strange feeling of delight dulled the pain in your arms as you realized the one good thing that had come from that spell; You could understand Kaurin, you spoke his language. Smiling slightly, you brought yourself to quietly answer him, "Yes, Kaurin, I am fine. The pain will pass soon, I hope."

**Translation spells... However, Taluulai will soon discover that there's a bit of a twist to that spell.  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**This chapter is short. I feel really bad. But school is SO STUPID, and I've been sick for over a month. I also got really into longboarding until the cold weather hit. Sorry.**

You were lead to the cramped entrance to a cavern and forced inside. One within it, the walls opened up to a large cave lit only by the river of magma that flowed beneath a bridge that lead to the next area of the mine. The heat within the cave was unbearable, raw and searing. The air was no better, sulfurous and bitter, no doubt poisonous to breathe in for long periods of time. Within a few minute you were gagging.

The contrast between the inside of the mines and the frost enshrouded world in which you had been was a shock to you. You'd had no time to prepare for it, a part of you wished you were still outside. At least the air was fresh and you didn't feel as if the ends of your hair were being singed away. The deeper into the mine tunnels they lead you the worse the air became. You held the shredded remains of your shirt to your chest and tried to filter out some of the acidity in the air, not caring about your exposed stomach. Others around you attempted to do the same. It was a difficult task given the bindings, and you would wince every time the fabric brushed against the fresh runes on your arms.

Along the walls, heaving pickaxes and hammers of stone above their heads, were hundreds of slaves, all in a row, lining the shaft walls elbow to elbow. They worked mechanically to the unending beat of a non-existent drum. Lift, swing, crack, collect the ore and stones, place them in a pile behind them. Repeat. The faces of the slaves, all Frostwolf Orcs and Draenei in tattered miner's clothes, were dead. It was like watching someone sleep walk, or in this case sleep work. Their eyes were open, their bodies moved, but there was no life or sign of consciousness to them. The longer you watched, the more their movements looked wrong and distorted.

You blinked and everything shifted back to normal, you tried to tell yourself it was just the noxiousness of the air you were gagging on getting to your head...

Down the through the tunnels you were lead, passing hundreds more slaves and towering bands of Ogre guards and slave masters. Finally you were lead to the biggest cavern you had yet seen. The ceiling more than two hundred feet above your head no doubt. The cavern was circular with little tunnels branching off into the cavern walls. The walls here lined with slaves just like the winding shafts that lead to this place and in the center of the room stood a massive Ogre dressed in spiked armor of gray and silver, a spiked club in his right hand to match. The Ogre, with his size alone, would have been already frightening. With armor though, he was truly terrifying. The horned helmet atop his head added several feet to his height, and that club in his hand was longer than Father was tall, and as big around as he was broad.

The line stopped and you stared up at the towering Ogre. Suddenly his voice, deeper and rougher than any voice you'd ever heard, rang out through the cavern and made you jump as it echoed off the black walls. "Kneel, slaves!"

The fear that gripped you at that moment was crushing, so much so that you could hardly draw breath. You did not hesitate to do as the gigantic Ogre said and kneeled the best you could manage in your chains. "I am Slave Watcher Crushto." The armored Ogre said. "I am your watcher and your master, and you- You are mine. Every step you take, every breath you draw, every beat of your puny heart is mine."

He spat upon the rocky floor and you hid the grimace that threatened to break across your face. "There is only one Ogre in this mine who's higher up than me when it comes to you lot of filth and that is Gug'rokk. But if you disobey any of us, we won't hesitate to decorate our belts with your skulls." The Slave Watcher grinned, and spat once more. Again you hid a grimace. "Welcome to the Bloodmaul Slag Mines, filth..."

"Now get to work!"

You had fallen into step almost immediately after Crushto's introduction, slipping beneath the certainty of your doomed life just as all the others had. You were unbound, your old clothing was thrown into a fire and you'd stood boiling even in your underthings as you sifted through a pile of half-decent miner's wear for "new" clothes. Around you the others, all dazed, angry, or unsure, did the same. You remembered Kaurin's lips peeling back into a snarl as he shed his old slave's clothes for another set. You'd managed to keep ahold of the remainder of your shirt to use as a mask after seeing others do the same. It was the only relief you'd had against the onslaught of sulfuric, acidic air.

You were sent to work right away, hammers shoved into your hands as you followed Kaurin and the rest of the newcomers- who followed the other slaves into the shafts. Those around you who dared to speak only murmured in Orcish. As you followed them you caught snippets of the whispered conversations.

"-so I advise you not to attempt at escape-"

"I know that it's hard, but we can get through-"

"There's nothing we can do but accept our fate and deal with what's been thrown at us one step-"

"-dare take the coward's way, you fool. If you throw yourself into those lava channels what will that accomplish?"

"-don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't to-"

They ranged from optimistic quotes to strangled ideas of suicide, from panicked escape plans to repetitive mumbling of the same words over and over. Few of the others spoke any Draenei, and even you found it difficult to think in your native language, the presence of the magic so influencing in your mind. You found yourself trying to remember basic phrases and prayers you knew by heart only to come up with garbled mixes of Orcish and Draenic. It was all the more a reminder of the Light's abandonment and the night of crying in the cart. You were startled when you realized just how long ago that all seemed, just distant your old life was now. You wondered how much further you would drift in these mines as you crawled the tunnels for the rest of your existence...

When Kaurin's careful words of reassurance drifted to you through the droning haze of fear, you latched onto the only good thing you had left.

"You are not alone here," He said to you as he slowed his pace to walk beside you rather than in front of you and you watched him. Even in obvious pain he kept going, the tenacity and perseverance of he and his kind still strong in him. You remembered back to the day he spent walking behind your cart, how he kept going even when it looked painfully obvious that he could not. You tried to let him inspire you, and to let his words bring you comfort, but only when he gripped your hand did you finally feel the fog of dread lift ever so slightly.

You were not alone.


	14. Chapter 14

**Yay! Another update, didn't take me nearly as long this time. I don't have a lot of time to write this A/N so I'm going to make it quick. I just want to say that I fully intend to actually finish this story, and that I'm sorry for not responding to everyone's reviews. But that you guys read this story makes me really happy :) I hope you like this chapter, sorry for any errors.**

The pickaxe in your hands was too heavy for you to correctly handle, but the crushing weight of your doomed future was much heavier. You heaved the tool over your head and brought it down against the rocky wall with a clang. Unlike the slaves who came before you, there was no rhythm to your swings. You struggled to breathe even with the help of your makeshift mask as you worked. Soon the already dark tunnels dimmed further as black edged around your vision. Beside you Kaurin was having a much easier time with the pickaxe, but still even his breathing was ragged as you both worked on.

Somehow, throughout all of this, Kaurin had managed to stay at your side. You were thankful for everything about the Orcish boy who had become your only friend now. His presence was sturdy and certain even though your lives trembled under the weight of your situation. The warmth he brought was welcome despite the stifling heat of the caverns. His words, though spoken awkwardly, brought about a comfort your current world lacked. The quick squeeze of his hand on your shoulder and the occasional glance between your eyes of ice and the molten gold of his own gave you reassurance.

When the shift ended, your group filtered out of the shafts as fast as you could. Even those who were so exhausted they could barely stand were nearly running toward the main caverns where some of the mines' terrible heat rose to settle against the ceilings. All of you, sweating and aching, coughed and sputtered as you took deep breaths of the cooler air.

The Ogres lead you to pens. Most of the Orcs grouping together to take one of the pens, the Draenei taking the other. You stood behind Kaurin as the two of you watched the pens fill. Still not used to speaking to him, you felt shy as you asked him, "Where do we go?"

He turned to look at you over his shoulder and gave a brief shrug. "It doesn't matter to me." He said. "But it seems to matter to them." He jerked his chin in the direction of the divided slaves.

You nodded, having noted the obvious separation between the two peoples. A strange feeling of anger filled you as you watched the slaves split off to be with their own respective races rather than working together or banding together- even for the sake of survival.

"This is foolish," You said, your tongue and throat beginning to grasp the harsher language. "We should all be working together..." Soon one pen was filled with azure and periwinkle bodies and the other with tan and red. The two of you stood awkwardly among the remaining slaves who waited to enter until the time came to make your choice.

Slowly you stepped toward the pen of Draenei with Kaurin in tow, testing the waters... But the fearful and suspicious expressions on the faces of the slaves inside in regard to the Orcish boy's presence. And though you understood why they felt as they did, bitterness weaseled its way into you and you turned toward the door to the pen of Orcs.

The crowd within parted to let the both of you through, and you picked a place along the wall to rest. Only when the two of your struggled to find the room to sit did you realize how crowded the pen really was. There had to be at least two hundred bodies squeezed into the gated space, and you stood out among them, blue among brown, tall beside the hunched woman to your right. Kaurin kept his hands of your shoulders even after you managed to sit. You rested your cheek against your knees, having pulled you legs to your chest, and leaned against Kaurin once he sat.

You closed your eyes and ignored the stares and glances. The sigh that escaped you was one of exhaustion and you tried to shrug off the nagging thirst and hunger that plagued you, and the heaviness of your head.

Eventually you must have drifted into a state of sleep, you awoke to Kaurin shaking you back to consciousness.

"There's buckets of water by the door," He said. "And some food as well, if you can even call it that." The two of you scrambled forward as the mass of bodies desperately shifted, people bumping into you on all sides, elbows jabbing your stomach and back, hands pushing on you. Through the current of people you managed to reach the door, by some miracle of the Light anyway. When you saw the bucket of rotten meat and the carcasses and bones of some unfortunate creatures, you understood what Kaurin meant. You glanced over your shoulder at him and saw his face scrunched into a scowl as he stared at the bucket's contents.

Nevertheless, even despite the foul smell and the maggots that burrowed into some of the rancid flesh, the two of you took a handful of meat and hurried to the buckets of water. Around you the other slaves were in a mad scramble for the bucket. The shoving had intensified tenfold at the epicenter of the chaos. They scooped water into their hands and chugged it down despite the fact that it was dusty and tasted of mildew. Once it was finally your turn, a franticness overtook you and you lost all rational thought as you drank the water you'd scooped up in your free hand. It was nearly impossible to do with all the people shoving and prodding, and you barely got any before a woman yanked you back by your miner's shirt and tossed you to Kaurin.

She glared at you, shouting, "Go back to your own people, blueskin."

Kaurin bristled from behind you and opened his mouth to say something, but despite your anger you shushed him. "Don't feed her hate," You told him. You knew that she probably spoke out of hatred at what had happened to her, hardened by abduction and slavery. Even in her words were harsh and racist, you had to ignore them, you had to understand. You took Kaurin's hand after he got his own water and the two of you made it back to the wall.

The meat was even worse than you'd expected once you saw it up close. It was half raw and half rotten, but thankfully free of maggots. You plugged your nose as you tore off pieces with your teeth in an effort to block the taste and smell. It helped a little, but not much, and you decided you'd rather breathe the stuffy, acidic air of the mine shafts over this. Still you choked it down and hoped you wouldn't be sick. You needed _something_ to eat, rotten or not, and this was all you had access to. When you were finished you retched, your stomach aching already. Through yet another miracle you kept the meat down, though, and you rested once more against Kaurin's shoulder, falling back to sleep within minutes.

You awoke to yelling as the Ogre guards opened the pen's gate and bodies poured out into the cavern. You stood and stretched your stiff limbs, feeling your circulation return, multiple joints cracking. You were ushered out by those around you and you hurried past the intimidating guards, falling into line with the rest of the slaves.

The shift that came after was a blur of stone and pickaxes and bloodied fingers, haggard body adjusting to the beat of the unheard drum. Fear kept you in line, but hatred brought about tears. You grit your teeth every time the pickaxe came down, the force of the swing jarring you and feeding your rage. You watched the slaves work on without complaint like hopeless, beaten animals and you felt shame every time you lifted to swing again. There were no conversations, not a single word whispered. You felt nothing but anguish when you thought of Father and Mother, anguish and shame. If Father were here, he would retaliate, he would fight regardless of the punishments to follow- Whether they were beatings, whippings, or death... He would stand and raise this pickaxe against these cowardly slavers. How come she could not, you asked yourself though you already knew the answer. You were too afraid. You wondered where the courage you'd had the day you met Kaurin had flown to. You wondered where the Light went, too.

When a Draenei woman a few spaces away collapsed and didn't rise- even when the slave beside her frantically prodded her and tried to rouse her- you were fixated on her fallen form. She lay heaving battered breaths as she lay upon the searing stones, pick still in hand, her gaze emptying as the seconds passed into minutes and the thundering steps of an Ogre filled the shaft. You watched, unable to look away, as she was lifted from the floor by the guard by her legs and shaken violently. She responded with a violent twitch, to which the guard responded by carelessly smacking her against the shaft wall. You screamed as she hit the stone. The twitching stopped and bile rose into your throat. Finally, as she was carted off like dead livestock, you looked away, eyes fixed on the shimmering ore at your feet.

When the guard was gone, you fell to your knees, ignoring the way the stones stabbed into your exposed flesh, and looked over to Kaurin who had stopped working as well. But he was not on his knees in tears and horror, no he brandished the pickaxe in his hands, knuckles paling as his grip tightened in rage. Hatred brewed in his wild eyes of amber and gold, resentment roiling from the grimace that graced his rugged features. With a sudden, arcing swing he brought the pick down against the wall so hard that rock splintered from the newly formed wound and flew out in all for a moment you feared him... But slowly his anger melted into sorrow and his fingers, gentle in contrast to a few seconds prior, wrapped around your forearm and he held on desperately as the rage filtered away until he kneeled beside you and shook, tired and raw.

As the guard returned you handed him his pickaxe and once more lifted your own, returning to the awful rhythm of your new existence.


	15. Chapter 15

**Another update?! I know, I can't believe it either. I'm stupidly proud of myself right now, even though this chapter is pathetically small. It was originally bigger but I couldn't find a good place to stop where I was at, so I had to go back to here. Hopefully, I can get another chapter out soon. I have a renewed vigor in regard to this story :)**

**I hope you like this chapter, it's kind of dull I must admit, but it's one of those filler chapters that stories need. This is also where the time jumps start, and btw there is one break a day, I should probably emphasize this in the actual story so that people who don't read A/Ns will know too. So, yeah, every time there's a break it's been a day. But the exact time is unclear because, ya know, caves.**

**Sorry for any mistakes, I plan to revise and edit things when the story is finished.**

The weeks passed in a dull, murmuring blur of stone, sweaty bodies, rancid food, and the smell of sulfur. Around you the walls caverns and tunnels shifted into the realm of familiarity, the presence of the slavers becoming normal. You'd quickly discovered that death was an everyday thing in the mines. More and more the crowd inside the pens thinned, you wondered if a new shipment of slaves would arrive. Soon you could sleep lying across Kaurin's lap with space for your legs and no one bumping into you. You also discovered that accidents, cave ins, and escaped fire elementals were also everyday things in the mines, many of which contributed to the emptying pens and the sudden abundance of space you had acquired.

Yet the more the pens emptied, the more of a community formed among the slaves, and the more the Draenei and Orcs began to mix among one another. During a moment of downtime on the ninth break you'd had since arriving, Kaurin braided your matted hair into two rows that reached behind your horns to the back of your neck where only a couple of inches hung free, tied off with a piece of your ripped shirt. It had previously served as a mask, but had become so tattered and ruined that there was little left of it to be used. It was better that something of it still served to be useful. Your acts of kindness toward one another and the growing bond between you seemed to rub off on the others. The racist comments faded, people braided each other's hair and handed out the better food to one another. Working together became a thing of regularity. Many of the people who had managed to cling to someone they knew or had grown close to were alone now, and so traveled between the pens, erasing the racial barrier. But it was all bittersweet, for everyday another face or two from the crowd disappeared.

You had asked Kaurin, after realizing that many of these Orcs were most likely from his clan, if he'd seen anyone he knew. He'd shaken his head, telling you of his surprise, but also that he had never been to the main villages yet.

"My family lived in a small gathering of our own near to the cliffs of the sea," He'd said. "We hunted and fished, raised our own Frostwolves. Father went to the village to trade and deliver the pups we didn't keep once they were old enough. He was the only one besides my older brother and Mother who ever went to the village, but they were the only ones who ever had a reason to. I had never needed to go before, there was still a year before I came of age and everything we needed we had or my Father could get for us..." He trailed off after that, somewhere else as he thought of home. "It was a simple life,!" He finally said as he snapped back to the grueling truth of his current reality.

You told him of the spice gardens and the marshes, your training and of the Light's grace. You told him of Mother's gentle fingers and meticulous eye when it came to the gardens, of your own little blossoming garden and how much you'd worked to keep the flowers alive. You told him of Shadowmoon as you knew it and of Elodor, of the fields and the dark forests, of the black wolves and the huge birds that flew in from the Spires. You told him of the Shadowmoon tradesmen and of how mysterious that clan had seemed to you, of the day you visited the Temple of Karabor, of Father's stories and strength. Days spent in your lessons, nights spent in prayer. The warm winds blowing in from the fields of night blooming flowers, coaxed into opening under the trillions of stars that littered the indigo heavens and the graceful shimmering light of the moon.

He told you of his brothers, of how he'd never felt lonely even despite only have them to spend time with as a child. He told you of the first time he'd gone hunting, the first time he'd taken a life and how impactful it was. You agreed. He told you of his mother's skill with leatherworking and of his father's unwavering patience when fishing. He spoke of old tales he was told as a child about the shaman and the Pale Orcs, the Furies, of the Garn and the great plains of Nagrand or the wilderness of Gorgrond. And to you he described the unmatched calm and filling silence that cloaked the land when the snow fell thick and there was no wind. You wished you knew what it was like, you wished you could see these places with him. You would spend forever with him if you could...

On the seventeenth break since your first shift, you sat curled in your usual spot against the wall as Kaurin ventured to the buckets in the far corner of the pen to relieve himself. You stared at your arms, your hands, noticing how much they had changed in just over two weeks. Your hands were littered with little scabs and cuts from digging through the ore and rock, fingernails dark with dirt and ragged from the erosion against the stone. Harsh callouses littered your palms and the pads of your fingers from wielding the pick, you laced your finger and felt the cracks and rough patches of your skin. Oh how Mother would've scolded you for not taking care of yourself, you let slip a smile for a moment.

Kaurin returned a moment later, looking as haggard as ever as he lowered himself to the ground beside you. You could feel him looking at you even as you returned to inspecting yourself, noticing further differences as your gaze traveled up your arms. There were scares there in random criss-crossing places from the past battles as well as various accidents as little girl, back when your life was simple. Dirt was everywhere on you, dusting your azure skin with red and black and brown. You attempted to dust yourself off but it did little. You were forced to come to terms with it as Kaurin took your hands in his own and brushed his thumbs across the backs of your knuckles. You felt heat rise to your cheeks for a moment and froze as your thoughts wandered to back to the fondness you felt toward him. Your thoughts, in the recent days, had shifted from companionship in favor of greater affections. It was something else you'd yet to come to terms with.

But as his hands slid up your arms to your elbows and he pulled you to him, you dismissed any uncertainty to let yourself cherish the one person you still had in this dark world. His warmth was always welcome, in fact, you sunk into it, ignoring any looks from the fellow slaves who sat nearby. They should be used to this by now, you thought. Besides, he was merely holding you, nothing more. The comfort he brought about lulled you to sleep.

The sound of shouting and the creaking of the opening gates had never been so unwelcome, you decided when you roused yourself from sleep. You found that Kaurin had drifted with you in his lap and he blinked sleepily down at you and offered you a slight smile. As you made your way to the lines, regret ached in your heart and you looked longingly back at the pen that had become "home" now. You didn't even need to glance at Kaurin to know he felt the same.

A silly, sly voice from within you whispered, "I wonder though, does he feel the same way about you as you do about him?" You tried your best to ignore the unbidden question, dangerous and sorrowful as it was and could be.

Your swing was unsteady throughout the shift.


	16. Chapter 16

**Another update :) I wonder how long I can keep this up. Sorry for any mistakes again. As I've said before, I'll edit this and all that good stuff when it's entirely finished. For now I want to work on updates and keeping the plot flowing rather than focusing on misspellings or name mix ups and the like.**

**Enjoy.**

It was sometime during the twenty first break that the gates opened early and that the clattering of chains filled the cavern. You opened your eyes to see lines of slaves, all new, waiting to enter the pens. So the thinning pens had not gone unnoticed after all. But as the slaves filled the pen, you noticed that some slaves were quite different. Among the tattered and weary Orcs and Draenei were creatures you'd only heard of in legend.

Tall, fur covered creatures whose faces resembled those of the great cats in Talador. Father had once told you stories of the Saberon, of their sharp claws as long as your forearm and teeth to match. But the Saberon you saw lacked the claws Father had spoken about, in fact their fingers were bloodied, and it was then that you noticed that their claws had been cut back painfully far. Though their teeth still remained, the creatures were muzzled to only allow their mouths to open very little, just enough to eat and drink you supposed. It was cruel.

With them came what you knew were Arakkoa, though they too barely fit the description Father had once given you. Rather than standing tall like the Saberon, with bright and mighty wings and talons, they stood short and hunched as if in pain, crippled through some means unknown, their feathers inky blacks and blues and purples. They peered at you with beady eyes that seemed to shimmer in the low light of the torches outside the pens.

As you watched from the safety of Kaurin's arms, you contemplated what the arrival of new creatures meant. One thing was already made certain in your mind; The Iron Horde had splayed its destructive fingers out across the reaches of Draenor. A very fearful part of you wondered if they'd already won, if their was anything left of your people at all. Were the slaves in these lines the last of your kin? And what of your home, did it burn and crumble, now desolate and ruined? You thought of your little flower garden turned to a crisp, the charred and ashen husks of your flowers standing tall like little grave markers for those that had fallen. For you, for Mother, for Father...

You got little rest as these thoughts plagued you, and the shift went more terribly than you ever remembered it. As soon as you'd made it back to the pen, now crowded with the new slaves, you collapsed into Kaurin's lap and the two of you were asleep in an instant. But even a day of work had not quelled the fear or tension in your heart, and for the first time in a very long while, you dreamed. Dreams of shadows, wolves, and the screams of your parents. You awoke screaming along with them.

Kaurin was clutching you to his chest and stroking your hair, whispering words of comfort the best he could. He laid down with you, shielding you from the gaze of the other slaves with his body, tucking you against the wall.

"Calm yourself, Taluulai," He whispered. "I know the memories of your parents' deaths plague you just as the deaths of my brothers haunt me every day, but you must calm yourself or you'll draw the attention of the guards. I do not want to see you like... That woman." He recalled the second shift, you shuddered remembering her demise and clenched your teeth, sniffling and gasping until the shivering and panicked breaths slowed.

"You are not alone here," The rumble of his voice was ever so welcome. "I will always stick with you, you're all I have, all that matters to me now."

You nodded against his chest and let a small whisper escape you, "Don't die, don't leave me here in this terrible place." His warmth was welcome as he pulled you closer.

That next shift was one of emptiness. You felt desolate as you fell into the rhythm, the march toward your death. You could feel the strain in your bones, in every part of you, as you did the bidding of your masters and mined further. You remembered the empty, haunted look on the faces of the slaves the first time you'd entered the mines. As if they weren't even conscious... To be honest, you no longer felt _there_ as you lifted the pick again and again to terrible rhythm of the unheard drum. You felt dead already, soulless and void of anything but sorrow as you worked. And when your shift ended once more, the scarceness of food and water due to the new slaves didn't bother you. Hunger wasn't even on your mind, it seemed as if nothing was on your mind at all. You held onto Kaurin because he was your lifeline, the last anchor you had to the world. You cried into him until you slept, and patiently he held you until you woke once more.

The days to follow were filled with chaos. With every passing shift the Saberon grew more and more volatile, the Arakkoa increasingly flighty, the Draenei secluded themselves into their own little colony within the pens and the Orcs did the same. There were a few stragglers, you and Kaurin among them. Most of the few who sat alone or out of place were injured or sick and you kept clear of them, trying to avoid disease. There was an injured Saberon in the corner opposite the waste buckets whose whole left shoulder was infested with maggots, the wound festering and blighted, the skin raw and purple, yellow-black puss dripping from the creatures arm. There was a good five feet of space around him, the surrounding Saberon watching wearily from afar. Fights often broke out between the groups of slaves, and even members of the same group would war with one another on an almost daily basis.

The biggest fight happened just after feeding time one break. What started with an insult among from one Orc to another quickly turned into an all out brawl within a few minutes. A nearby Draenei woman threw fuel on the fire by commenting on the "brutality of such _beasts_." That was what really got it going. The Orcs stopped fighting one another and turned to the Draenei who were, to your shock, just as eager as the Orcs for bloodshed. The quarreling of the two races added to the irritation of the agitated Saberon- who already often viciously fought among themselves due to warring clans- and sparked their rage. Roaring, shouting, and screams filled the pen. One of the Arakkoa attempted to calm the Orcs and Draenei first when it became clear that this wouldn't end on its own until every man and woman was down for the count. But then he too was struck, hard, by a stray fist and he was dragged into the fray. His fellows took to his defense and rushed to aid him, quickly being sucked into the greater conflict. Now only the stragglers, who had migrated as far away from the writhing, shrieking mass of bloodied and bruised bodies, remained. And though you couldn't see into the other pen, you could hear shouts being thrown from the other side of the wall.

The Ogre guards were there within minutes, tearing open the pen gates and swinging around their clubs and fists, yelling over the din of the now-scattering crowd. The races grouped up again, tending to their wounded. Two Orcs, a Draenei, and the first Arakkoa lay face down on the stone in the center of the room. None got up or stirred even a bit. Their open, empty eyes stared hauntingly into your own and you hid your face against Kaurin as they were dragged away.

That fight had been the beginning of the end. The carefully-grown aura of peace that had been tended to over the weeks before the new slaves and races arrived was gone. The races glared at one another with open contempt and disgust. There were no more fights, but insults were still flung from group to group. The competition for food and water during feeding times had become a frenzy. Each day you and Kaurin got less and less. Sometimes you would be unable to get food, being nearly trampled every time you stepped foot into the tide of starving, overworked bodies. Kaurin would share with you what he could, but often the both of you went hungry. This made work shifts much harder to bear.

The pickaxe felt so heavy by the twenty ninth shift. You could feel yourself deteriorating with every swing. When people fell dead around you, you hardly noticed at this point. So long as Kaurin, always working to your right, was still alive... You cared little about what happened. How cold you had grown over the last month, how detached. Death, pain, cruelty... It was all familiar now. A month of being locked away, encased in stone and fire, bound by chains of True Iron, unable to see the sun or the moons or the stars, unable to breathe and eat and drink freely. Over a month and of devastation and fear, nervousness and near death experiences. You felt so exhausted, so unraveled. There was little left you, like threadbare fabric or the husk of a wilted flower. You never dreamed now, not even nightmares ghosted through your sleep anymore. Scarred and blistered skin hung to a thin frame that had become almost skeletal, muscle unable to form without rest and food to fuel your body. Kaurin, too, had lost some muscle and fat. He was thin in comparison to the Orcs who'd arrived later than they. Shoulders less broad, waist thin, cheekbones and jaw accentuated by the lack of fat in his face. If not for the spark of tenacity still bright in his eyes, you might have thought him gaunt in appearance when standing beside another Orcish man.

But he was still strong, beautiful in your eyes. You loved him. Even as you faded away with every shift, even as the world around you grew empty, he was still bright and warm, gold against the dark of the mines. He guided you, carried you, fed you and held you. He filled the empty void in your heart. You felt unworthy of his attentions, but you did what you could, gave all that you could give.


	17. Chapter 17

**Things really start to change in this chapter, and we're working up to the peak of the story now. Almost at the top... This chapter's pretty sad, in more ways than one, I must admit. And to be honest, I'm not sure how much I like it /: But I tried, and I'm sorry if it feels a bit rushed. It's sort of how the chapter is supposed to be. We're supposed to see and feel each chapter as Taluulai does, it's her recollection of the story.**

**Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter more than I do lol.**

There came to be Orcs outside the pen doors one day. You'd hardly noticed them at first, having been in the process of drifting off at the time, but their voices had eventually reached your tired ears. Kaurin was already asleep when you turned your head to look. A huge, grey-skinned Orc, not unlike the woman from the boat, stood at the pen's gate and stared in with narrowed, yellow eyes. He was dressed from head to toe in black armor with red and brown fur and metal embellishments. Across his back lay a sheathed blade with a hilt of carved bone, a tuft of silvery fur hanging from a chain at the end of the blade's handle. It took a moment for you to realize that the tuft was actually a paw.

He was speaking in a low voice to the two smaller Orcs at his side, a woman and a man in matching armor who stood at attention. His underlings of some kind, you presumed. Common soldiers, perhaps, you didn't know. Thundering steps echoed through the cavern and by instinct you shifted closer to Kaurin. Slave Watcher Crushto appeared after a moment, steps nearly shaking the cavern as he came to a halt behind the armored Orcs.

"What is this mess of a holding pen, Crushto?" The grey-skinned Orc demanded. "Look at this! Sixty three in one pen when you've got another with only thirty seven right next to it and two more in the next room over that aren't being used." He turned to face the Ogre, "Spread them out, thirty four to a cell. You've got five hundred sixteen slaves, total, in this mine and fifteen pens. Get this place in order or you and your superiors are going to hear from Blackhand."

He stalked the length of the pen's gate and came to stand before the Ogre once more. "The production's been down lately ever since the incident in Tanaan and the Iron Horde needs armor and weapons." His voice became threaded with a darker tone. "Right now we rely on this mine to bring us the ore and metal needed for those things through a fair agreement... But we don't need this agreement the way you and your empire do. The Iron Horde's hold on Draenor grows by the day, Slave Watcher. If we can't get what we need through an agreement, we can always _take it._"

He turned to the pen once more, eyes scanning across the battered crowd inside. His yellow orbs locked onto your form, an intrigued look creeping across his features as he spotted you curled against Kaurin. They narrowed as they traveled up your body to meet your stare and you shifted uncomfortably, turning your head so you could no longer see him. But still you could feel his eyes upon you, bringing about a chill in your spine. After a minute the sensation passed and you dared to look again.

He had finally turned his gaze toward something else in the pen, his voice ringing out one final time. "And for the love of Draenor, get that rotting Saberon out of there!"

The Orcs left, Crushto gone with them, leaving the cavern empty. You lay awake, lost in the sound of Kaurin's deep, calm breaths as you thought of the grey Orc's words. "_Spread them out..." _ You wondered what that would mean for you, worry washing over you at the possibility that you and Kaurin could be separated. You eyed the red runes that were scrawled across your inner arms as you ventured further into your thoughts. The possibility of losing him made you shiver, even in the stifling heat of the mines. If you lost him you were sure you wouldn't last, you were certain to perish, but perhaps death would be better than living without him. You began to realize that your feelings went beyond one of companionship in a life of slavery, beyond a basic friendship. Your relationship went far past simply being desperate for someone in a world where you were alone. This love had formed from that bond, sure, but it had grown further. The lives you had lead had been so different, as were your families, your interests, your peoples. But there was _something_ that had clicked between you form the very moment you'd seen each other. You still had yet to discover what it was, but to you it didn't really matter now. What mattered was that you loved him, and regardless of whether or not he loved you in return, you were going to make sure he knew.

You shook him, gently brushing stray hairs from his face as you did, mindful of his tusks. He shifted, stretching, his eyes opening to lock with yours before glancing at the gate in confusion.

"Not time to go?" He asked, uncertain as to why you woke him. He looked back to you and seemed to notice the nervousness in your eyes. He sat up straighter, "What's wrong?"

You leaned into him. "Kaurin," Your voice shook as you spoke, and as you forced your feelings to become known, the words that poured from you like a confession were Draenic.

He looked at you in brief confusion. "What does that mean?" He asked, your nervousness having been passed to him like a fever, brows knitting themselves together, eyes shining in the darkness. You felt his heartbeat pick up pace beneath your cheek.

"It means..." You paused, swallowing, trying to gather the courage to go on. You knew it could be your only chance if what you feared was going to happen _did._ When you broke the silence, it was with a whisper. "It means 'I love you.' "

He pushed you back again and fear filled you. Had the voice been correct? Had your intuition been wrong? Did he not feel the same? But his hand cupped your chin, and he tilted your face up so that you had no other choice but to look at him. He leaned forward until your foreheads touched and one tusk brushed against your cheekbone. You stayed that way for a moment, your eyes closed out of both nervousness and comfort. Then he pulled back again and you were nearly choking on your uncertainty.

His expression was earnest as he finally spoke, "I love you as well, Taluulai."

Elation brought you to tears in that moment, emotion roiling through you. It was as if the pain of the past weeks left you in that moment, leaving you bare and raw. It was your turn to initiate a physical act this time and you chose to kiss him. You brought your mouth to his, his tusks pressing into your cheeks now, one nicking you beneath the eye and drawing blood. The aspect of kissing had already been foreign to him, that much had been clear at the way he had jerked back when your lips met. After a moment he'd accepted the gesture, but he'd pulled away completely when he noticed you bleeding.

He wiped away the blood in a slight panic. "I'm sorry," He whispered, head hanging in shame. Now you cupped his chin and smiled at him.

"It's fine," You assured him. "I hardly felt it anyway."

After the awkwardness finally peeled away the difficult part came. You told him of the grey Orc and Crushto, of the way the armored Orc had looked at you, of the possibility of being separated. By the end of it you were quietly crying and he was holding you so tightly you almost couldn't breathe. "I cannot bear to lose you," You confessed. "I will die without you. You are my anchor, without you I will be lost."

More poetic than you'd ever thought an Orc capable of he reassured you, "Then I will hold to this world for all eternity." He wiped away your tears. "Even if we are apart, my thoughts will always be with you. And if I should come to die-" You could not hold back the whimper of sadness at the thought of his death. "_If I should come to die_, I would give up the journey to the spirit world." He told you. "To stay at your side until you join me and together we can fade away."

The weight of his words would have been suffocating if not for the love you felt for him. He was willing to give up the peace of death to protect you, to stay with you. You wondered if you could bring yourself to do the same. The thought was terrifying, but the idea of wandering the spirit road to Auchindoun, of a world without Kaurin with you, was even more terrifying. You couldn't imagine an existence of any sort without him now. He had become a permanent fixture, a piece of your heart.

You drifted off together, waking to the sound of the gates opening not much later. You opened your eyes and your heart dropped. The grey-skinned, armored Orc was standing at the opening, pulling people out of the pen and into groups in the center of the round cavern. You hurriedly woke up Kaurin and watched anger and anxiousness fill his expression. His voice was a low growl as he whispered, "They won't take you from me."

You needed a plan if you were going to be separated, some way to see each other, even if only to make sure that both of you were alive. It was almost impossible to think through the fear, but finally you managed to come up with a way.

"During the shift," You blurted. "When we dump the ore into the bins in the other cavern."

He blinked in surprise, relief soaking his expression as he released a haggard breath. "Of course," He said. "You're a genius." He let out a quiet, nervous laugh before suddenly pulling you to him again. "Please don't take her." You heard him plead.

The rest of the slaves began to rouse themselves and soon everyone was awake and standing in confusion as more people were pulled away. You tried to hide behind Kaurin as the clank of armored footsteps grew ever closer as the grey Orc sorted through the slaves. They stopped before Kaurin.

"You there!" The voice barked, you recognized it from earlier and your heart dropped. "Step aside so I can reach that girl." But Kaurin didn't move and you could nearly feel the animosity growing between the two Orcs, Kaurin was practically bristling. "Are you lame, boy?" The grey Orc spat menacingly. "I said _move_." Finally he threw Kaurin to the floor and you felt sick to your stomach as he landed heavily with a harsh thud. Cold, armored fingers wrapped tightly around one arm, and familiar warm fingers grabbed the other.

Kaurin was staring at you from the floor, desperately clinging to you. "Let go of her," A whole armored arm wrapped around your frame and yanked you back and squeezed _hard_.You let out a gasp of pain. "Or I'll make her departure all the more painful." He threatened.

Kaurin's hand shook as it let go, his touch lingering on you like a burning mark. He stared at you in pure terror as you were dragged away and you watched tears spill as he realized that there was nothing he could do, nothing either of you could do. You cried as you were placed in a group and lead through winding tunnels to a new pen, the tears that fell could not be stopped. You felt nothing but blinding sadness and unrestrained hatred toward the grey Orc. You _knew_ he'd done it on purpose. In disgust you remembered the way he'd leered at you before and your fists clenched, wrists straining in their chains as they were unlocked and you were unceremoniously shoved into the pen.

You said nothing as the hours passed until the gates opened again. The chains had never felt heavier or more restraining as in that moment when you were chained into your line and lead to the new tunnel to work in. So much had changed in only a few short hours. You'd confessed your love for one another only to be torn apart. You'd never thought yourself capable of feeling so much loneliness. It was soul crushing and now there was no one to shield you from its terrible weight.


	18. Chapter 18

**Oh boy. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. With what's to come in the next chapters, I didn't know how to properly build up to it. This is the best I could come up with so far. At least this chapter is a bit bigger than a lot of the recent ones :) I just hope you guys are happy with it.**

**I'm going to warn you now you, though... The chapter after this one is when shit really hits the fan.**

**Enjoy.**

The amount of ore you'd collected was pathetically small, but it was still enough for you to be sent down to the bins. When you came to the crossroads in the tunnels and shafts, your eyes scanned the crowd of busy slaves for Kaurin. You searched and searched but came up empty. You realized, then, the fatal flaw in your plan. Your schedule must have shifted, your shift and your breaks changing to a different time than before. Frantic, you searched for the tunnel you'd worked in previously. Perhaps he had just started or had just left...

After a bit of walking you found the old tunnel, remembering the red fabric draped over the spikes at the entrance. It was the only tunnel with red fabric on the spikes, the other tunnels marked with fabric of different colors. Blue, green, brown, black, and the like.

Inside, people worked away, gnawing at the walls with their picks like a termite infestation in wood. You hurried your way passed the guards and finally you came to the spot where the two of you had worked for over a month. Your heart fell... He wasn't there. You wanted to wait, to see if he would eventually come but it was mid-shift. He would've been there already. You turned away and headed back for the bins.

A hand came down on your shoulder and you flinched. You didn't dare turn around out of fear that the grey Orc was there, or perhaps one of his soldiers, but then you noticed that familiar warmth of skin against skin and you knew who was really there.

"Taluulai?" His voice was quiet, almost lost among the continuous clanging of the pickaxes and the clatter of falling stones. Nevertheless, you heard him and turned around, resisting the urge to run into his arms.

You smiled., "Oh I have searched endlessly for you," You exclaimed. "Come with me to the bins, we must look busy."

He nodded, returning your smile and holding up the bag of ore he'd collected to show you. "I came prepared," He said. "I'd figured it would be for the best for us to keep working. I don't want to draw anymore attention to us." He took you hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting go. "The shift is almost over, let's go."

"I was so worried that we hadn't planned this correctly." You confessed as you walked. "When I didn't find you at the bins or see you in the tunnel I'd thought that perhaps our shifts were at different times now, that I would never get to see you..."

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him nod lightly. "Well I'm here now."

Yes, he was here now, and that was what mattered. You hurried toward the bins, not wasting anymore of the few moments you had together with worrying about the past. You spoke only a little for the rest of the time that you were together, pointing out what tunnel you now worked in and expressing your loneliness now that you were apart. 'I love you's were exchanged. Time passed all too quickly, you found, and when the bell marking the end of the shift rang, you almost couldn't bring yourself to pull away from him, your fingers lingering in his palm. The parting was painful, you returned to the cell with a lump in your throat and worry in your heart.

This was the way things continued for the next week and a half, the two of you meeting at the bins each shift and talking for a few minutes, happy but desperate to be in each other's company, then returning to your cells to relentlessly long for one another.

You were not doing well. You felt ill, feverish and lightheaded, you shivered as you worked. You could hardly accumulate enough ore to take to the bins with the shaking of your limbs and how heavy the pick felt. You'd hardly eaten during the past two weeks of separation from Kaurin. Even with less people in your new cell, competition for food and water was still high and without the help of Kaurin, you could hardly push your way through the crowds to get what you needed without being trampled. The lack of proper nutrients, combined with the poor quality of what you _did_ manage to get your hands on, left you weak.

Kaurin immediately took notice of your condition when you gathered enough ore to meet him where he was waiting, bag of ore still in hand, unemptied.

"Look at you," His eyes scanning over your emaciated frame, noting how your miner's clothes hung loosely on you, how you stood shivering even in this heat. "You won't last through the next break..." He murmured. You stared down at your hooves in silence. What he said was true, you didn't have much time left at this rate.

Suddenly he grabbed you, pulling you away down through a tunnel you'd never been in before. "Hurry," He said to you, "Before the guards see..."

"Where are we going?" You asked, too tired to fight him as he pulled you along, helping you when you stumbled over the uneven floor of the mine shaft. There were no workers here, you noticed, just empty sacks and buckets and picks lying strewn across the way.

"I discovered something," He began to explain, "While waiting for you the other day I watched one of the Ogre guards come out of this tunnel with a cart of meat and buckets of water for the ones on break." He stopped to help you up once more. "-Come on, love, you're going to make it- There must be food somewhere down here. If we can be quick and quiet, we'll get back before the shift is over..." You saw him swallow. "And I can save you."

This plan was crazy, and both of you knew it, but there weren't many other options left if you were going to survive. And in your sickened state, you didn't the mind or willpower to convince Kaurin that this was a terrible idea. All you could do was stumble along beside him, hanging on his shoulder for support. The shaft seemed too dark and to confining as you hurried through it, it was as if it went on forever with its many twists and turns and bends. It was all too disorienting...

Finally the tunnel opened up into a small cave. Across it was a very small pen that was seemingly unused, and in the corner lay a sleeping Ogre, draped across an over-sized chair, a huge meatcleaver still in his hand. Along the wall were a set of tall tables, on them were bones and carcasses, raw but fresh looking in comparison to the buckets of rotten meat on the floor beneath them. Beside the Ogre was the doorway to a connecting tunnel much larger than the small cave and the tunnel you'd taken to get here. Another Ogre wandered through the tunnel and Kaurin pulled you back, hiding both of you behind a stack of buckets. You wrapped your arms around him in that moment, how long it had been since you'd been given a chance to do that... You relished in the comfort his touch brought you and for a small moment he let you before carefully pulling away.

"Stay here, alright?" He set you down. It wasn't really a question, you knew. " I'm going to get some meat from that table for us and look for some water," He said. "If someone comes... Flee without me, you have to."

You laid against the stone and waited nervously as he disappeared around the stack of buckets and into the room. You listened, though you weren't sure what exactly you were listening for. It seemed like an eternity passed as you laid against the stone tunnel walls, though it couldn't have been more than a minute or two before he reappeared, meat in hand.

"No water," He said regretfully, "But I didn't manage to get this." It was as he handed you the piece that you noticed how badly his hands shook. You glanced up at him. His eyes were wide and glistened in the dimly lit tunnel, the lantern light reflecting off of gold. He slumped against the wall and sunk down to sit beside you. "Hurry," He whispered. "We only have a few minutes more."

Seeing him so frightened cut through the hazy sickness that clouded your mind and body. As you chewed the bloody meat and felt strength start marching back into your body, you silently observed the Orc you loved as he ate his own share. He ate quickly, still wracked with nervousness even though the initial act of pilfering the food was over, hardly bothering to chew. His hair hung down around his face, many of the braids having come loose over time, thick and black and coarse- yet straight. It was as if he hid behind it, a personal shield of his own making. The braids that remained swung with his every movement. He was crouched, sitting in a little ball with his eyes locked on the sleeping Ogre in the corner, pierced ears twitching at the slightest sound. Sitting that way, with the curtain of hair in his face, his eyes wide and luminous, he seemed small and childlike. You wondered, then, for the first time, how much longer you'd lived than he.

It was no secret that the Draenei aged _very_ slowly. You were, of course, no exception to this fact of life. It was something that couldn't be helped, or stopped, even if you wished it to. It was also no secret that Orcs did not live so long. You'd been alive on this world longer than Kaurin and even though you were born of foreigners, you'd call this land home for much longer than he. You didn't know your exact age, few- if any at all- did. You did know that as children your people aged at a fairly steady rate until adulthood. That seemed to be the time when everything stopped, when you became like everyone else, unaging for thousands of years. Worth and age, whether or not you were considered mature or _adult_ was judged by your knowledge and actions, how you acted and what you knew. Looks were a fickle thing, considered petty and only picked at for the sole purpose of making an identity, so you could be picked out as an individual from the crowd of others who looked just like you. Beauty and grooming were done for yourself rather than for another. The traits of the mind and the heart were what caught the eye of another.

Kaurin had to be more than two decades younger than you at the very least, you realized at you mulled over the thought some more. It was a shocking realization, though one that should not have been given the differences between the two of you. But it was not the difference in age that bothered you, as you delved further into the subject, it was the fact that he would die long before you that was like a hit to the gut. You were thankful for having finished your food a moment before that thought came or else you wouldn't have been able to finish it.

You looked to Kaurin again and reached a shaky hand to brush the hair away from his face, the child-like look about him vanishing when he was in the full light of the lantern again, muscled and tall, sharp-jawed. Smiling.

Oblivious to your thoughts he took your hand and nuzzled it before pulling you up to stand with him. "Ready to go?" He asked. You allowed yourself a moment to lean on him and nodded into his shoulder. You knew now that you had to cherish every moment with Kaurin, even more so than before. The desperateness then shifted... Determination slipped through the barrier of fear that had broken you after so long in these mines. As he pulled you along with him you vowed to survive this, to free him from this place, to get him out of here someday.

Mortal lives were short and bright, and this mine was much to dim for a man of gold like Kaurin.


	19. Chapter 19

**Oh boy, here it is. I warn you, this is the place where things get crazy. As always, sorry for mistakes, I really don't know why I even bother to say that anymore at this point lol.**

**Well, anyway... Ihsan... You may want to watch out for your hope, because it's in trouble.**

You awoke to banging. Loud, rumbling thuds that shook the mine walls, rocks and loose pebbles falling from the walls and ceiling from the impact. Even the rock floor beneath where you lay in the corner of the pen shook. The shouting came next, truly rousing you as panicked Ogres argued with equally panicked Orcish soldiers just outside the pen gates. You were still only waking up, unable to focus on their words quite yet, and by the time you'd rubbed your eyes and come to a sitting position like everyone else, the argument was over and the Orcs stood at the gates opening them.

"Everybody out!" One of the soldiers called. Then, in response to the slaves standing in a line, their wrists outheld in expectation of being shackled, "No lines today, just move it and follow the guards!"

You did, everyone did. There was no time to hesitate it seemed, an air of nervousness and curious dread hung heavily in the air, suffocating. Lightheaded, you scrambled to your feet to follow, not daring to be left behind. Something was happen, and though you hadn't the slightest notion of what it might be, yet, you were not about to stick around to find out. What if it was a fate worse than slavery? You wanted to live, to survive this with Kaurin, you couldn't afford to fulfill the desires of both your curiosity and your will to survive, you were most certainly going to give in to the latter of the two.

You followed the crowd into the tunnels, around their twisting bends, to the cavern with the bins where all the tunnels met and conjoined. You were caught up in a sea of other slaves, their had to be hundreds of you crammed into the cavern, dwarfing it. Murmured conversations drifted and echoed and whispered their way through the cavern as you all waited in confusion for the next orders from the Orcs, But the orders never came, instead you simply stood waiting, endlessly. Finally you decided to make your way through the room to search for Kaurin. If all the slaves truly were here, as you suspected, he had to be there among them. You found him in the center of the room, pressed against the side of a bin with no space to move.

"Kaurin," You gripped his shoulder against the tide of bodies when you got to him, "Come with me." You ignored the many glares thrown your direction as you guided Kaurin back toward the tunnels where the slaves had thinned out and there was more room.

"What's happening?" He asked you as you came to a stop. "The cavern shook and there was rumbling, as if one of the tunnels crumbled," He said. "And then they took us from our pens."

You nodded, "That's similar to what I heard too," You replied. "But nothing else. Well, the guards fought with the soldiers for a moment but I don't know why," Silence fell over you as more rumbling and banging from elsewhere in the mine shook the wall. A wave of gasps and whispers fell over the crowd again. "What in the Light's name is happening?"

Suddenly the Orcish soldiers surrounded the crowd, the grey Orc standing in charge, "Head through the tunnel without a banner!" He shouted. "Move it or die!"

The crowd surged forward, roughly jostling you as it poured into the tunnel you and Kaurin had snuck through to get food only a few days prior. You clung to Kaurin as fear began to seep through your skeletal frame and you shook, desperate to stay with him. The sea of bodies around you moved rigidly through the cramped tunnel, the Ogre guards barely able to fit without hitting their heads on its ceiling. All around you was a river of red and blue bodies, dotted only by the occasional furry form of a Saberon or the dark-feathered hobbling movements of an Arakkoa. Everyone bore a similar bedraggled expression of nervousness, anxiety as wound tight like a cord pulled straight. The cord ran through everyone, connecting all of you no matter your race or age or gender, because in the end you were all just scared little slaves being forced through dark tunnels after weeks of hard labor and the threat of death and decay.

A sudden, deep rumbling snapped that cord as rocks fell from the tunnel's ceiling and cracks splintered its walls. The old shaft was caving in... With all of you inside it.

"Run!" Came the cry of one of the Orcish slaves. And run you did. Everyone ran, tripping over the floor and each other, trampling those in their path. You were one of those in the way, weakened by malnourishment and heavy work. The hooves of fellow Draenei crashed down upon your back and legs as you curled into a ball and hid your head in your arms. Feet and claws and talons left you scratched and bruised, a rib snapping and your left shoulder dislocated. And all the while your cries of agony went ignored by all but one.

Hands pulled you from the floor, warm and firm, but gentle. A strangled, panicked voice called your name, "Taluulai!" The sound of Kaurin's voice was distorted as your heart pounded in your ears, as if you were hearing him from beneath water. "I've got you." He promised as you leaned against the shattering walls together. Your wavering vision and hearing began to clear after a moment and as you looked upon him you saw tears and desperation in eyes of gold. The other slaves rushed passed and Kaurin swallowed back his sobs as you wrapped your aching arm around his shoulder. You heard him clearly this time as he whispered to you, as he asked you a question that had hung around you both since the day you'd crossed paths- but one that neither of you had dared to speak lest you make it so.

"Are we going to die?"

For a moment all you could do was blink back heartbroken tears as your mind screamed _yes_. Then, however, you remembered the promise you'd made days earlier as you'd lain sick and dying yourself in this very tunnel. And you said: "No."

"No, Kaurin, no! We are going to make it out of here, we are going to see the sun and the moon, we are going to feel the wind on our skin and taste fresh water again." You remembered your determination. "We are going to eat well raise a family of our own, war be damned!" Your legs shook but you stood strong all the same as you held either side of his face in your hands. "I am going to get you out of here."

Together you ran full on for the end of the tunnel, dodging fallen rocks and struggling to keep your footing with the tunnel shaking so badly beneath you. The crowd had thinned now and you were among the last making their escape. Most of those left were the weak or sick and a few of them ran in pairs or small groups, helping up those who had tripped or fallen or had been trampled, perhaps there was still hope for peace between them after all. You and Kaurin ran side by side, in sync and perfect together, tired and bloody and desperate but still perfect all the same.

_We are _not _going to die here._

The end of the tunnel was in sight, the crowd of slaves pouring into the larger cavern through the small pass across the room. The meat still lay on the tables, a few of the slaves grabbing what they could as they ran through. Your heart soared as the small tunnel began to open up into the cave, not caring about what came after as long as you made it. You left the meat alone, not bothering to waste time at this point, and slowed as you reached the back of the crowd. You hung back a bit with the other stragglers in the room. There was no point in being dragged into the frenzied clot of bodies all trying to fit through the small door at once. You waited unable to stand still, holding Kaurin's hand as you shook, the effects of your determination-fueled adrenaline beginning to wear off. Pain oozed its way through your nerves and you began to realize the full extent to which you were injured.

Kaurin pulled you close and you leaned on him as you started to make your way through the pass. Another smash and a series of yells echoed through the larger cavern, bringing about another thunderous tremor. The small cave shook, the stalactites on the roof of the cave shaking. Kaurin drew even closer to you, his arm circling your waist, and you both looked up. A monstrous crack was running its way up the cave wall from the opening of the pass that connected the cave to the rest of the caverns. Your stomach dropped as you watched it climb and the stalactites began to fall, more screams filling the room as one of the other slaves was impaled upon the floor.

Kaurin pushed his way into the dispersing crowd at the opening, his arm still around your waist. He pushed desperately now and so did you.

"Go!" You shouted at the bickering people who scrambled from a break in the crowd, "It's caving in. Go, Light damn you!" You fought despairingly to keep a hold on yourself as a mental breakdown threatened. You'd come so close...

The sound that accompanied the shattering of the ceiling could only be described as a roar. Chunks of the ceiling gave away all at once along the crack, the stalactites falling first before the boulders that shook the floor so hard you all fell on top of each other. And then, so suddenly, a wave of rocks came down upon you, burying you in dust and stone. You choked and coughed, pulling up your ruined miner's clothes to shield your nose and mouth as you gagged on the dust and sand. You found yourself blinded as you dug your way through the stones until the dust cleared after a few moments and you'd finally managed to pull yourself free. Through water eyes you searched for the only thing that mattered.

"Kaurin!" You could barely force his name from your throat, it ached and burned and left you sputtering. You dug through the rubble for him, pushing aside boulders as big as you head despite the burning in your shoulder and back. Finally you felt something under the dirt and you dug furiously until you found a head of dark brown braids, bearing the face of your love. You found his shoulders and pulled until half of him was free. You began to dig once more before realizing something; Kaurin wasn't breathing.

There was sand in his mouth and up his nose, all around his eyes where it clung to the tears he'd shed earlier. You turned his head to the side in your lap and scooped it out of his mouth, beating on his back, trying to force the breath back into him. The world around you faded away, shouts and screams and shouts all ignored as you set about your task. You ignored your injuries, the way your body willed you to give up, the ragged breaths that left your throat raw. You had vowed to take him from this place, to free him. You _were_ going to get him out of here. _No more scared little slave._

_We are not going to die here..._ The words repeated themselves in your mind and upon your lips like a prayer. All of a sudden a familiar aura gripped you in warmth and hope, cloaking you in a reassurance you were certain was lost forever. The Light had returned to you. Never in your life had you felt so determined as in that moment as you understood the Light's will to save those who could not save themselves.

You turned him over as much as his still-trapped body would allow and you placed your ear against his chest, listening for the familiar rhythm that had kept you sane through the months past, but it was nowhere. You didn't allow grief a moment to settle in. You remembered the moment you first saw Kaurin battling the wolf down at the lake, you remembered the moment when you made your choice. You had saved him then, you could do it again- You had to. You grit your teeth as power filtered through you to your palms and you placed them upon his chest. You remembered healing him that night behind the tree, you remembered the sympathy you felt toward him when seeing the many wounds and scars. You mended his wounds then, you would do it again. And you would never let him be tortured again. You felt the Light's power flowing into him, seeping through his skin to his stilled heart and his aching lungs. Triumph filled your soul in that moment, but you would never complete the spell.

* * *

**I'm sorry, Kaurin.**


	20. Chapter 20

**I hate this chapter. It sucked to write and I'm probably going to end up changing it. But I know that if i didn't write it now, it would take me weeks to actually get it out. I don't want that.**

**Well, I hope you like this chapter more than I do- though I doubt that you will. It's a sad, painful chapter and I'm really sorry I wrote it lol. But things will get better, I promise.**

The spell was cruelly, abruptly broken as a gauntleted hand twisted itself into your hair and ripped you away from Kaurin. The familiar growl of the Grey Orc filled your ears, "Oh no you don't!" He hauled you up from the ground and shook you hard. "So!" He shouted, "You've still got the power of that 'Light', eh? Well allow me to rip it away from you."

He backhanded you with his other plate-gloved fist, the sharp metal tearing into your left eye. You couldn't hold back your scream. He dropped you to the ground, leaving you to shake helplessly on the stones as you tried to get a grip on your pain. Agony was ripping through you, but slowly being replaced by a haunting numbness as you no were no longer able to feel the left side of your face. Your heart pounded in your ears and you gave a panicked gasp as the Grey Orc approached once more. "I've heard," He said casually as he gave your chest a sharp kick, "That if you strip one of your kind of everything they have," A second kick and you gave a groaning sob, "The 'Light' will leave them forever."

You closed your eye as you waited for the third kick but it never came. The footsteps approached but you found yourself being lifted off the ground again, your scalp aching. You kept your eye closed as you tried once more to focus through the pain. You refused to let him break you, no matter the pain he inflicted. You had to make it through this, for yourself and for Kaurin. If you could just escape the Grey Orc for even a moment, before the spell diminished and Kaurin's soul escaped-

He pressed you into a wall with his body and your eye snapped back open. His breath fell against your neck as he whispered menacingly into you ear, "I fully intend to see if that rumor is true."

All focus left you as you began to panic. He shed his gloves one hand at a time and grabbed at your clothes. You twisted beneath him, trying your hardest to escape, but he had you pinned. He was heavier than Kaurin even without the armor, and with it he outweighed him by at least two hundred pounds. You stood little chance against a trained soldier even if you weren't injured, certainly there was no hope for you now. You remembered when you began to age into a young woman and Father had told you of the possibility that this could happen, that though it was extremely rare in your people, it wasn't non-existent. You'd found the entire concept of something like this so revolting, so horribly disgusting and terrifying. So cowardly. You'd felt such sympathy for the girl that Father told you of in his example of what could happen if you weren't careful. Of course you'd never thought this would happen to you, you'd spent your life in a sheltered farming city in Shadowmoon Valley, surrounded by people you knew and trusted. You had _never_ seen this in your future... Yet here you were, pinned to the stone walls of breaking a cavern by an Orc, blind in one eye as the man you loved lay dead and half buried beneath a sea of stone.

You wept, the tears burning your ruined eye, your cries catching in your aching throat as your clothes were ripped away. You struggled and fought, clawing at his face and eyes, summoning the Light to your fingertips so that they burned him like fiery claws. He snarled and backed away, holding his own eye now. Shock and then anger thrashed through his expression and you scrambled away, your shoulder and ribcage burning to the point that it was nearly unbearable. The Grey Orc stood over you now, panting heavily, a growl rising in his throat as he prepared to lunge for you.

Bright, blinding Light filled the room, flaring brightly as sparks of gold showered down upon you, bringing about a feeling of safety. The sudden, deafening clang of metal hitting metal filled the cavern and as the Light dimmed, you watched the Grey Orc fall into a headless heap upon the floor, his head and his helmet rolling away. A figure appeared from behind him, armor weapon and shield aglow with the Light. He was like nothing you'd ever seen before, standing much shorter than you short but very broad, pointed ears jutting out from beneath a river of white hair that greatly contrasted with his tanned face. It was his eyes that stood out the most. They glowed not unlike your own, but were the brightest green you'd ever seen. You stared at him from your place upon the floor as he carefully approached you, kneeling beside you after a moment.

You studied him through your remaining teary eye. For all his alien features, you knew a follower of the Light when you saw one. From the armor and shield to the ever brightening protective aura about him, even if he was not among your race, you knew him for the purity of his soul. And so you chose to trust him, leaning into his hand when he placed it over your eye and poured Light into the wound, sealing it closed. He smiled concernedly at you and all at once you were overtaken by emotion, you wept yet again.

Warm fabric was wrapped around you and you were lifted from the floor. The paladin, despite being so much shorter than you, had no trouble lifting. As he carried you away from the rubble, you took one last glance, looking past the headless Grey Orc to the one you loved, one final look upon Kaurin's still form. It was too late to save him now, the spell had fled you and you knew his soul would be too far gone to drag back by now.

The memory of him was all you had now and the ghost of his voice echoed in your head.

"_If I should come to die, I would give up the journey to the spirit world." He told you. "To stay at your side until you join me and together we can fade away."_

He was gone physically, but he'd always be with you.


	21. Chapter 21

**This chapter is both late and jumble-y. I apologize for both things. **

**Explanations: laptop was broken and we are currently moving. It's fixed now.**

**2.I wrote half this chapter a month ago and no longer remember where I was going with it so the last half is only part of what I could recall. I know this chapter seems weird. Sorry. But it has to exist.**

**Also, if you'd like to see what the paladin looks like, you can see him on deviantart where I posted a couple quick drawings of him. My username is the same there as it is here.**

People were everywhere. People of many races, of races you'd never seen before. All of them spoke Orcish but your ears failed to focus on the words they said. The paladin ran as he carried you and the world around you bounced and swayed dizzyingly. You clung to him with all your strength as you fought the urge to vomit.

"Out of the way!" You heard someone yell. Was it him? You couldn't tell... "She's got a severe head injury, among other things, she won't last long." The world around you suddenly brightened and the air turned frigid. You gasped, curling in yourself against the near-painful cold. You closed your eyes and sobbed through the shock, your body wracked by violent shivers as the cold wind met your exposed skin. You lost consciousness.

When you next awoke you were warm again, comfortably so this time, but the pain remained. You didn't dare move from where you lay. Steadily, as your eye adjusted, faces materialized above you, their mouths moving as words you failed to hear poured from their lips. You felt hands moving along your body and you shuddered at the unintentionally invasive touches until a sudden jolt of energy made you gasp. The familiar warmth of healing seeped into you from limb to limb. You watched as the four faces above you stared down with determination. The beings above you were so foreign. One turquoise-skinned man had tusks as long as your forearm, the woman beside him bore yellow hair, the being beside her was covered in fur with huge black horns and only three fingers, but the last figure struck the you most. An Orc with _green_ skin...

You flinched as the flow of healing stopped and pain returned. Your remaining eye met the gaze of the the red-eyed, green-skinned Orc as he covered your face and your vision and consciousness drifted out of reach once more.

"Can you tell me your name?"

You were seated on a pile of furs, the paladin's cloak still draped around you again, a cup of warm stew held by your shaking hands. You clutched the heated wood of the mug and tried to still yourself. Failing, you took a careful sip and set it down on the stone table before you. Seated on the other side of the table was the paladin, armor discarded, looking even smaller than he had when you had first seen him. He held his own mug of stew and watched you quietly, a sympathetic smile still gracing tired features. You noted the circles beneath his eyes as he closed them and took a sip himself before speaking once more.

His voice was deep, just a shade higher than Father's, and though smooth it held a coarse quality to it, as though it were hoarse but naturally so. It rumbled from his throat in the form of short, guttural Orcish words as he asked you once more, "Can you tell me your name?"

You looked at him helplessly, mouth open slightly, as the ability to speak evaded you. You stared into the swirling stew and saw your eyes. The healthy one stared back at you, wide and tear brimmed, silvery blue as always. You tried to hide your shock as you looked over the destruction of your other eye. It stared back at you, iris now visible without the glow, grey-blue and empty, void of light or energy. It was ugly and shameful, a dark mark, a symbol of how you'd failed to save Kaurin. Your heart and your head throbbed in anguish, you closed your ruined eye as much as you could and covered it with your hand. This was all so sickening, you pushed the stew away.

"You know what?" The paladin suddenly said, rising from his seat and putting his cup down. "The questioning can wait, this is only just your first day among the free again." He came to stand at your side and offered you his hand. "You need rest and Time, for those are the best of healers."

You took hold of his waiting fingers. They were warm and strong, tan and weathered. _Just like Kaurin's..._ You thought mournfully.

As he lead you out of the tent and into the snow, stopping to pull the cloak tighter around you, your thoughts traversed dangerous paths and ventured into the abyss of your mind. This was your fault. After all, you had been the one to fail in saving Kaurin. You should have tried again, even if he was past the time of reconnecting... There had been miracles before, surely... _Surely._ You had squandered the only chance you'd been given to save him, wasted the Light's gift to you. What good was there in possessing such power if you _failed_ to use it? You should have been the one to fall, Kaurin would not have left your side. Even lacking the power you had, he would never have left you. Even injured as you had been, he would've carried your battered body from the mines, he would have demanded to have you brought with them.

You came to the realization of something; You were nothing like Kaurin.

Your thoughts lingered in the empty stillness of shame that clouded your mind as you and the paladin came to another tent, larger than the one you'd just been in. He lifted the flap for you and you found yourself noticing just how _small_ the paladin really was in comparison to you. He stood a good one and a half feet shorter than your seven foot self, yet his hair- silvery white in color- hung straight and _much_ longer than your own. His narrow green eyes were expressive and bright, kind even despite the intimidating, shadowy green glow that sent tendrils of energy swirling into the air like smoke every time he blinked. Spidery scars ran across both his ears, as if someone had tried to remove them at one point. His cheekbones were high and his jaw strong, another scar crept across his right cheek and onto the bridge of his nose. Yet despite such prominent features, his face was much softer than that of any man you'd ever come across. There were no rigid horns, no large nose or huge eyes, no protruding chin or heavy brow, no tusks, no tendrils. For such a small man, he was well muscled. His arms bulged and his shoulders could've rivaled Kaurin's in terms of broadness. His body was all brawn, but he stared up at you with such sincerity that you knew there was so much more lurking beneath his rough appearance.

Without meaning to, you blurted out the question, "What are you?" And in horror you waited for his face to contort at the blunt question but it never did.

He simply smiled once more, "I am what others, the Draenei people included, would call a 'Blood Elf'." He said "I could explain more about my kind after you rest and we sort everything out, if you would like?"

As you stepped into the darkness of the tent, you gave a nod. Anything to distract you from the torment inside of yourself, anything to give life to your desolate heart.

The night was long and you found yourself surrounded by fellow ex-slaves, some of which were slightly familiar. Your bed was the upper level of a bunkbed and the heat from a fire pit in the center of the large tent-like building made it impossible for you to rest. It reminded you of the mines, the stifling heat and the scent of smoke and ash and something eternally burning. You tossed and turned on the furs. Even though your old miner's clothes had been replaced with a soft new shirt and pair of pants, and you had been washed by the healers in your unconsciousness, you felt uncomfortable and dirty again- just as you had in the pens.

For a moment you drifted off, only to feel the ghost of familiar arms wrapping around your midsection and holding you close. You sighed and lifted your hand in search of the security that Kaurin's body offered, but found only empty air. Your eyes stung, both of them, and you wished you could blame the smoke that rose steadily through the opening in the tent's roof and into the night sky for your tears. Of course you knew the truth behind them, and desperate to escape the suffocating confinement of the tent, you wrapped the paladin's cloak about yourself fled into the open night air.

You gasped at the cold again, your breath clouding in the frigid air before dissolving into the slight, chilly breeze. You shuffled your way out further into the night, feeling off balance with half of your vision so suddenly taken from you. You willed yourself to ignore what was missing in favor of distraction and looked up. Above you one million stars stared down and the moons cast light over the snow and made it sparkle as if the sky and the ground had become one and the same. You found yourself unable to look down. Memories of brighter, happier, simpler times twinkled through your head. How many times had you stared up at this same sky? Millions of times, you were sure. So why, then, did it seem so foreign to you now?

There was a sudden shuffling from the left of you, the crunch of ice and snow under someone's foot. Your head whipped around to see a man- a _Blood Elf_ as you'd learned they were called- standing a few feet away. At first glance you almost mistook him for the paladin but now that you saw beyond the green glow of his eyes, you realized that he looked almost nothing like the man who'd saved you. The newcomer was decidedly male and stood as tall as you, maybe taller, with a hair the color of sunsets in Talador tied back so that half was up and the rest fell to frame his face and shoulders before hanging all the way to his thighs in length. He was slimmer than your rescuer, that much you could tell even from beneath the armor he bore. His skin was pale under the light of the moons and you'd never seen a person with such long ears before. He looked so alien standing there under Draenor's familiar skies and you knew he could not possibly be from your world. A brief pang of curiosity made you long for the company of the paladin and his promises of explanation.

You locked eyes with him for a moment and felt yourself nearly shrink under his gaze of complete, unarguable dominance. You fidgeted where you stood and began to turn toward the tent again when his gaze faltered and for a moment the hardened shield of dominance fell away to reveal emotion. Sadness, hopelessness, anger, and fear darkened his gaze and this time he was the one to fidget where he stood as his feelings were exposed. In that moment you recognized him for the honesty in his eyes, for they held a gaze like your own. He bore the eyes of someone who had lost _everything_. In that moment you wondered what he'd lost, who he'd lost. You wondered if he saw the same in you.

There were more footsteps and you scrambled from the path as they came closer. A green-skinned Orc rounded the corner from behind another tent and stopped to salute the silent man who stood out alone in the snow. "Evening, Commander Jaerim."

The Blood Elf merely nodded in return and the green-skinned Orc continued on his way, sparing a glance in your direction as you disappeared back into the tent- unable to sort through your thoughts.

Eventually exhaustion over-ruled discomfort and you dreamt of smoke and fires, rock and stone crumbling down onto your head, green-eyed aliens, and Kaurin's lifeless body that refused to breathe. You awoke screaming.


	22. Chapter 22

**This is the longest chapter yet. It is also another filler chapter, however it needed to happen to get things rolling in the story after the ending of the Mines Era. I'm excited to show you, in the chapters to come, where Taluulai goes in her life. I was tempted to end the story at chapter 20 and make the rest of this a sequel, but I just wasn't feeling it. So this not-so-short story still has a ways to go. I hope you guys will stick with me :)**

**Enjoy.**

**p.s. I had a good time writing this chapter, for once.**

Another mug of warm stew had found its way into your hands. You didn't dare to peer into it and become sickened by your own reflection, however foreign it appeared to you now, you were so hungry. The paladin was back in his place across the table from you, seated on furs just as before. His smile was earnest, he waited for you to settle yourself and drink from the mug. "Not too fast." He warns.

You heed his warning and stop yourself though your body aches and yearns with continued hunger. The stew is like heaven on your tongue, your first taste of something that isn't either putrid or raw in months. There are vegetables and herbs among the meat, the familiarity of a few of them sparks nostalgia and longing in your mind. You savor the flavor of Frostweed leaves that have been brewed into the broth. For a moment you are taken back to harvest day five years ago, kneeling beside Mother in her spice garden. She lifts the little crystal cover from the top of a tall plant, leaves curling and silver in the starlight. The air around you turns frigid and the ground around the plant is cloaked in frost as it leaks from the very leaves of the plant itself.

You are ripped away from the memory as the wind outside the questioning tent howls mournfully. You steady yourself and set down the mug and begin the process of steeling yourself for the questions to come. This is the hard part, you tell yourself. As nervousness seeps through your bones, you recall the paladin's promise from yesterday. At least there was something waiting for you at the end of all of _this_, whatever this was. What was there for you to tell? You'd been kidnapped and enslaved, sold to Ogres and Orcs to work in volcanic mines to fuel a war, to fuel the genocide of your people, your parents were murdered, your love died in those mines and in the same day you were liberated. If it was information these rescuers of yours sought, they were looking to the wrong girl. You had nothing to give them, information or otherwise, beside empty stares and nightmare induced screams in the night.

Your mind flits back to this morning. You screamed even after you were awoken by panicked guards, you screamed and could not stop. The other liberated slaves watched on in either understanding or emptiness as you flung yourself out into a morning snowstorm and shivered in the snow as the shock of temperature change forced you from screaming to gasping. The guards watched you in bewilderment, pity, or disdain as you climbed back into your bunk and violently shook until sleep came again.

The paladin placed something on the table in front of him as he shifted in his clothes, standing for a second to adjust his pants and disentangle himself from the legs of the offending garment. You couldn't help but notice that they were obnoxiously too long and pooled about his feet, twin holes a few inches up the legs worn away by his heels. He sits again and looks at you with his still-earnest smile before his feather-like brows knit themselves into an expression of sorrow and deep frustration. He looks at you and his gaze has gone serious. On the table is a piece of parchment with numbers scrawled down the side. _One, two, three four..._ And so tension gathers for a moment before his voice frees itself from the confines of his throat and he begins.

The question is the same as it was the previous day: "Can you tell me your name?"

Seconds tick by, murderously slow in their passing. You force yourself to speak and find that for all your screams, your voice is even as you answer, "Taluulai."

The paladin's brows unravel ever so slightly as he nods and scribbles it down beside the number one. Afterwards he looks up and his smile has returned despite the weight of his brows for just a moment. "My name is Giizheg." He gives you a moment to process this and you gladly take it.

The second question rolls forth from his mouth: "Where are you from, Taluulai?" You are surprised at the ease in which he pronounces your name. You remember how Kaurin stumbled over the syllables and the fluidity of the word in its harsh contrast to the Orcish language when you first revealed your name to him. Your heart beats on bitterly even despite the blow the memory brings.

"I come from Shadowmoon Valley," You say, "Elodor."

He gives a small nod, already scribbling down your answer beside two. "I am from a forest very far from here," He doesn't look up this time, "A place called Quel'thalas. Eversong..." You can see him drift off in his thoughts for a moment.

He shakes his head and appears almost flustered when he looks up once more, the smile is small and has turned bashful. He clears his throat and continues on. Three: "Do you have any remaining living relatives?" As he reads off this question the smile disappears completely. His eyes take on a look that is eerily similar to the other elf you saw, the one from last night who stood beneath the stars with you in silence.

You wonder what he's lost.

"No." You hesitate to say more but finally, swallowing halfway through, manage to say, "My parents were murdered by the Iron Horde when I was taken... We... We were on a pilgrimage... To Auchindoun. We tried to run. We fled through the forests but there was no escaping them. They rode their wolves while we stumbled through bushes. I saw the bites on... On Mother's neck. She is gone... I know this, she cannot have lived. There is no way! So much blood. She-"

His hand is on your shoulder and he is suddenly sitting beside you. The paper has been left behind and forgotten as he takes your shaking hands into his own and he whispers a familiar prayer to you. You swallow and begin to recite it along with him until the trembling stops and you feel the Light thrum in response to the prayer. You realize, bleakly, that the Light is the only thing that remains from your life, and even your connection to it did not escape the Iron Horde's grasp untouched. The Iron Tide has taken everything and mutilated it all. Your parents, your face, your love, your faith.

You do not elaborate on any more of your answers.

"You've answered questions three, four, and five." He says. You nod, he continues. Six and seven are in regard to information. You have nothing to tell. Question eight is the last one: "What are your plans for life after liberation?"

When you say nothing he speaks again, "Would you like to return home?"

"Is there a home to go back to?"

He thinks for a moment, "Elodor survived the war through use of defense crystals, or so the reports have said." After another moment, "Would you like to go back?"

You think about it, feeling surprisingly empty despite earlier's nostalgia and the longing that has plagued you over the weeks passed. You realize after a moment that perhaps you simply aren't ready to return to normalcy, whatever normalcy may be in Draenor Changed, in Shadowmoon Changed. You aren't ready to see your house so empty, Mother's gardens dead and dry, Father's tomes gathering dust by the second. You simple tell him, "Maybe."

He rolls up the parchment and places it beside a little bag off in the corner that you had failed to notice up until now. He returns to the table and sits closer to you this time, a little off to your right. This is good, you can still clearly see him without having to turn your head. You wonder if he's chosen that spot deliberately because of your handicap.

"Surely you have questions," He says softly, "I will answer what I can."

You do have questions and you should feel thankful that he has offered to answer them, but instead you cannot pinpoint one to ask and you feel the desolation of yesterday creeping up on you, emerging from behind some decrepit, leafless bush in the far corners of your mind. You have to focus on something else. "You said you would tell me of your people." You blurt out after three agonizing minutes of silence.

The earnest smile is back in full swing and his brows have unknit themselves completely, unraveled to their feathery state of relaxation. He straightens his pants one more time, you drink from your mug even though the broth is going cold. At least the meat is still warm, you can still savor the Frostweed.

"What would you like to know?"

The two of you are launched back into the cycle of questions and answers, answers and questions, and so on.

One: "Where did you come from?"

Answer: "Azeroth, another planet."

Two: "Like Argus?"

A shrug and then, "Well, yes, but we are not slaves to the Legion as the Eredar are." You briefly recall Father's stories about the corruption of the Eredar and the birth of the Draenei race.

Three: "What is Azeroth like?"

A sigh and an answer: "Where to start... Azeroth is very diverse. There are forests and deserts, plains and oceans, mountains and coastlines. I suppose, in a way, it is very much like Draenor."

Four: "What about where you lived? What was it like there?"

His smile grows into a grin, fanged teeth revealing themselves ever so slightly, "Quel'thalas is beautiful, filled with forest and lined by white sand against the sea. The leaves on the trees are all gold and scarlet, and everything is always shimmering... The seasons hardly change, Eversong Woods itself is actually trapped in an eternal Spring. However in the Winter months it sometimes snows, though rarely."

It sounds both beautiful and familiar, reminding you greatly of Talador. Of Talador and all of the nightmares lurking beneath the ethereal sheen of beauty. You suddenly find it difficult to continue but you are determined to fight the desolation before it takes root. Where once there grew the tree of Fear in your conscience, there now threatened the seeds of Desolation and Dismality. You would fight them, rip the saplings from the earthy soil that is your mind and force the invasive species from the garden.

Your voice quivered as you spoke on. Five: "Are Blood Elves the only race on Azeroth?"

he blinks at you as if surprised, "Hardly. In fact there are many races. Elves, Orcs, Humans, Ogres, Trolls, Gnomes, Dwarves, Pandaren, Furbolgs, Goblins, Tauren..." He stops to swallow as momentary uncertainty floods his face, "...Undead..." He clears his throat again, the smile is back but it seemed plastered on this time, "There are even Draenei."

It is your turn to be surprised. Six and Seven: "There are Draenei on this... Azeroth? Orcs and Ogres too?"

He nods and stray strands of milky hair fall in front of his face. He tucks them back behind his scarred ears, "Yes, not too many Draenei, but some."

Eight: "So the green-skinned Orcs that I have seen here, they come from your planet?"

Answer: "Some of them yes."

You feel surprisingly embarrassed by the ninth question as it pours from your mouth, "Why is it green? Their skin, I mean."

He looks sobered by your question, though you don't quite understand why, "Fel taint," He murmurs, "Legion corruption."

You're startled by this revelation, "But you said-"

"That Azerothians are not Legion controlled, yes I know." He pauses and seems to search for the right words, "The Orcs are not Legion controlled _currently_," he explains, "though that was not always the case. However not all that is fel tainted is Legion controlled. Take my people for instance. Our eyes bear the taint but that is only because my people can literally absorb magical essences into our bodies, not because we are controlled by the Burning Legion."

You _think_ you _might_ be starting to understand and you are about to continue down this curious path of distraction when the tent door opens and one of the green-skinned Orcs you had just been discussing appears and says in his gruff voice, "Giizh, the Commander's having another one of his-" He stopped with his eyes fell on your form across the table, he proceed quietly in a half whisper, "One of his... Erm, _breakdowns._"

Giizheg rose from the furs and adjusted yet again. He nodded to the Orc, "I'll be there in a moment, Brokenstorm. What was it this time?"

The Orc continued to eye you, he shuffled impatiently, "We don't know, Victoria is trying to reason with him right now."

Giizheg turned to you as you went to stand. He flashed you an apologetic look, "I'm sorry to end this early," He sighs, "The other refugees are being directed to different tents according to their situations. Wait here for me to return, think about where you would like to go now that you have your freedom again."

He left and the afternoon faded into evening, soon the tent was only lit by the vanishing light of the setting sun as it filtered through the fabric of the tent. Sounds of the camp in the evening hours clung to your ears as you waited. Clanking metal, shouting, shifting fabrics, the occasional shrieks form the wind as it momentarily picked up. The tent began to grow colder and you burrowed into the fur once your deep mug of stew was empty. It was not long after that you drifted into the eerie mouth of the River of Consciousness as it emptied into the Sea of Dreams.


	23. Chapter 23

**Hello again. This one certainly took longer to get out. I hit a bit of writer's block as I was uncertain how I wanted to get things where I needed them to go, but had a moment of sudden inspiration tonight. Unfortunately this chapter in on the short side, but only because I couldn't find a good place to end this one. I'm going to go and continue writing the next chapter after I post this, but I wanted to get something up to you guys at least.  
**

**Thank you all for following this story reviewing, it really means a lot that people found something that was at least interesting to them about my work. That's what drives me the most, I think, when it comes to writing.**

**The part in italics is a dream, btw, and it _will_ be important later ;)**

**Now, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, I plan to make some more drawings for this story on deviantart very soon. They aren't all that amazing, but I try with the limited time I have right now lol.**

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_Feather-like, soft, melting in your palm, settling on your eyelashes and catching in your hair. There was no wind and the sky was dark with thickening clouds. You stood beneath ebony pillars that reached like the gnarled fingers of arthritic craftsmen into the brewing storm swirling above. The snowflakes fell slowly, like tiny flower petals caught drifting, dancing over currents in the air. They whirled around you with no particular destination save for the call of gravity._

_You stand transfixed. The snow piles up about your hooves. Somehow you are not cold._

_Something familiar stirs inside of you and you feel a pulling in your heart. It guides you and leads your legs into rhythmic steps. You are taken to the mouth of a cave. At first there is confusion as the sensation leaves abruptly and you are left to stand and figure out what comes next. You glance down at the ground and see prints in the snow, large and four toed, familiar and fear-instilling. _Wolves...

_You look up, suddenly so nervous, and your gaze catches on things you could have sworn were not there a moment ago. Crates, a blue banner with a white wolf's head, furs hung over the entrance to the cave, unlit torches nestled together in a snow drift, nets are scattered across the snow- half buried in it- alongside the ores to a boat unseen._

_Suddenly the furs covering mouth of the cave are lifted and two white wolves and an Orcish woman appear. One of the wolves, considerably smaller than the other, nuzzles the woman's cheek and she gives it a soft pat on the head before digging through one of the crates. She pulls out a necklace of cerulean beads and huge teeth, the tusked canines of other wolves. She gazes down at it, unmoving for several seconds before looking up again. Her gaze meets your own and you find yourself staring into a pair of eyes with a likeness you'd only come across once before in the face of your love. You found yourself staring into the familiar warmth of molten gold._

Someone is gently tapping your shoulder. Your uninjured eye opens and Giizheg is kneeling beside you, his hair creating a curtain around you. That he looks tired is the first thing you fully take note of. His eyes are rimmed in purple shadows and his expression is slightly sullen, the green glow of his fel tainted eyes seems oddly diminished, stubble lines his jaw apart from his goatee. As you sit, you notice he is still in the same clothes as the day before.

"Good morning," He murmurs and his voice is thick with exhaustion, "I hope you slept better than the night before last."

You nod and he runs a hand through his hair. It falls freely over his shoulders and in his face to pool in his lap. You are surprised at the pitty you feel for him, surprised that an emotion besides sadness- or even any emotion at all- is able to be produced by your still-reeling mind. Your words come out more blunt than you meant for them to, "You look as though you've hardly slept at all."

He chuckles and the laugh sounds almost pained, "That's because I haven't." He says and sighs, "I do not know if you've- though I strongly suspect you haven't- met Commander Jaerim, but he is in charge of the forces here on Draenor. He is also my cousin, and because we are family it is my responsibility to make sure he is well. However, Jaerim has not been _well_ in a very long time and there are days when he loses himself and I have to help pull him back. I just spent the whole of yesterday evening and last night attempting to do so." He muttered the next words and you struggled to catch them, "Light knows if I succeeded..."

He shook his head, "Well, enough of that. Have you thought about what you would like to do?"

You hadn't. Even though you'd lain awake and waiting for him to return for so long, you'd found yourself unable to think of it, to think of anything really. It was as if there was a wall in your mind, an invisible barrier made up of fragmented emotions and splintered thoughts. The remnants of the life you once lead and the people who you cherished had wound themselves into a twisted portrait that hung on the invisible wall in your mind and prevented you from moving forward. You were trapped by the memory of what you lost. The key was somewhere beyond your reach, if it even existed at all.

In truth, you didn't know what your options were besides the obvious one of going home. But you couldn't go home, not yet, you weren't ready. You didn't quite understand what made you so certain of this, but it was the only thing you _knew_ right now. But if you couldn't go home, then what _did_ come next?

"What are my options?" You asked. "What can I do? I don't... I can't go home, not now..."

He was quiet, the expression from before returned. The one with furrowed brows and hair hanging in his eyes. He nodded after a moment, "I think I understand," He said, voice softened in pity. "I felt that way for a time when I was younger, though for much different reasons, I suspect." The way he looked at you now made you nervous. His gaze was meticulous in its inspection of you, eyes narrowed as if to search beyond your skin. You didn't understand what he was looking for.

His next words caught you off guard. "Now, the current situation in regard to your fellow refugees is this: There are three main groups, one for the Frostwolf Orcs returning to their villages, one for the Draenei returning to Shadowmoon or Talador, and a group for the other races like the Arakkoa. However, there is another unofficial group. The group consists of refugees who wish to join _our _Horde as followers of the Commander in the fight against the Iron Horde."

He gave you a moment to digest this, and you were just about to release a string of questions when he cut you off. "Now, before I continue my explanation and before you begin your questions, _I_ have a question for _you_. You are a student of the Light, are you not?"

The question came as a surprise but you nodded. "My father had me enrolled in basic priest training before we departed on our pilgrimage to Auchindoun... How did you know?"

"I know what you are just as you knew what I was when you saw me in the mines. As fellow a Light-wielder, I can see the Light's influence as it courses through you. Although I could have mistaken the strong connection to the Light you people typically have for added influence, I thought that it seemed too prominent to be simple devotion." He smiled, "I guess I was correct."

You nodded and thought it over. It made sense that he, especially being as powerful as he was, would be able to sense the Light in you. You remembered seeing him standing there behind the slain Orc, the one who had attacked you... You remembered Kaurin's body in the rubble and the dread of knowing that it was too late, that _you_ were too late. You swallowed, the hollow feeling in your chest contrasting with the thick lump in your throat. You avoided his gaze as you tried to compose yourself, but Giizheg saw right through it.

He placed a gentle hand on your arm, warm and large for his height. Yet despite his caring nature, you still flinched. He withdrew his hand immediately and bowed his head. "I'm very sorry," He said. "I should not have touched you without asking."

You shook your head, "No... You misunderstand, it is not because of you that I flinched, it's just that..." You didn't know where to start when it comes to the topic of what went on during your time in the mines. You still struggle even with remembering that you are no longer a slave, with comprehending hope and the idea of freedom when you had been convinced that there was nothing for you but heat and oppression until you fell dead against the stones you worked away at. Nothing but death and fear and... Love. Your love, Kaurin. For all that life as a slave lacked, for all that it took from you, there was one thing that the world of the free could not give you and that was Kaurin.

"That your memories owned you in that moment?" The paladin's voice pulls you back into the present.

You nod this time, almost ashamed at how you flinched away from this man who had shown you only kindness and understanding. You are unsure what to say now. As always, he seems to sense it.

"I have an offer for you," He says, lulling the conversation forward and out of the rut it had fallen into. "Please know that you are not obligated to accept, nor do you have to make your decision immediately. As a fully trained paladin, I have been granted by my fellows the right and licensed ability to formally train you in the ways of a paladin. So I offer you now the option of coming with me back to our garrison as my student and apprentice. You would live alongside Jaerim's followers, but rather than being under his command, I would be responsible for you." He stopped to allow you a moment to take it all in. "This way you would be safe, furthering yourself along the path of the Light, and you would not be made to go home and be alone... I know that it's probably not what you expected, but I want to help you. I _need_ to help someone, so that then in helping them, maybe I will better and help myself as well. It's in my nature..."

He looked bashful again for a moment and you found yourself guessing at his age. Like a youngling of your age, his emotions played so honestly across his features, yet there was still an authoritative aura to him that came only from someone who was a veteran in once sense, or many. You thought over his offer, trying to comprehend the direction this could go in, trying to be cautious after everything that had happened. But you found yourself unable to see the future, your future. Training as a paladin... In a _garrison_... With people you had only just met. It seemed risky in all senses, but then it hit you. Who did you truly know anymore? Mother and Father were dead, thoughts of Shadowmoon and Elodor seemed foreign and distant, Kaurin was gone forever... You did not truly know even yourself anymore. What more you could you lose? Your life? That had been put on the line so frequently in the last six months, and Giizheg promised you what safety he could give...

For reasons that you could not fully place, you trusted the Blood Elf. Maybe it was his gentleness, maybe it was because he was a paladin- someone who you had always known as a figure of safety as a little girl. But perhaps the greatest reason you had for trusting him was his openness, his honesty on all fronts. The world had been, and still was, full of so much deceit. You latched onto Giizheg's sincerity and a feeling of rightness, the very first feeling of certainty you'd had in a long time, overtook you as the words tumbled from your mouth...

"I accept your offer."


	24. Chapter 24

**Wow. I can't believe I first published this story over a year ago. It's safe to say that this is no longer a short story by any means. I'm sorry to those who hoped this would end quickly, I thought this would be finished after a few months when I first uploaded it. It appears that I was quite wrong.**

**Thank you so much to all those who have stuck with me though this. I really like this story and I fully intend to finish it. Your reviews and favorites and follows are really encouraging. :) I'll try to keep these coming.**

**This chapter is a good sized one, which I'm proud of. I'm also proud of not making you wait a month for an update.**

**Enjoy, guys. Sorry for any mistakes.**

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You stood just behind the tent door, fidgeting with your new clothes as you waited for Giizheg to collect you. You'd been given thickly woven, fur-lined clothing to shield you from the harsh weather of Frostfire Ridge as you rode with them to their garrison. The shirt and pants and wrappings for the lower portion of your legs was all a deep, dark brown, but the heavy cloak was black, as were the gloves and scarf. You'd never worn such thick, constricting, heavy clothing before. Even the layered formal robes of priest training could not compare. You felt too hot underneath the leather and fur, the heat of your clothes combining with your nervousness to make you feel nauseas. Your hands slid over the fabric in search of a loose string to pick at but it was too well-made and there were none.

As you waited, you thought about the mines. You couldn't help it. Every moment that wasn't spent agonizing over the future was taken up by memories of the one person you wanted but could never have again. He lay deep beneath the volcanic bedrock, asleep forever in a chamber of fire and sorrow. You wonder if he suffered when the rocks came down, if he felt the pain of death as you struggled to dig him out, or if he was killed instantly. You supposed you would never know, and you were glad for it, but still you wondered. It was hard to fight the tears without a distraction. A selfish part of you wanted to pick at the seams in your shirt until there was something to pick at and distract you. Somehow you restrained yourself until the flap that served as the tent door was lifted and Giizheg smiled up at you.

"You are ready, yes?" He asked as he motioned for you to follow.

You stepped out into the camp. It was much different than it had been only a day before. The tent you had been sleeping was one of the last ones standing, the rest gone or scattered further apart throughout the space. The crates and other things you'd seen lying about were gone as well. Down the path, to your left, was a large crowd of Draenei.

"Are those the refugees returning to Talador and Shadowmoon?" You asked.

Giizheg nodded, his gaze shifting from you to them. "Yes, they're being transported through portals and teleportation stones back to either Auchindoun or Karabor." He looked back at you. "You could still go with them, you know." He murmured.

You shake your head. Perhaps someday you would go back to them, to your empty little house, to the marsh and the fields lit by two moons and a trillion stars, to the girl who raised the Fey Dragons, to the ever lingering smell of herbs and spices. But not today. You couldn't face everything that had changed there. Elodor may have survived so far, but your parents hadn't and there was no telling who else was gone too. You wondered about the other towns and cities, about Embaari Village and the Temple of Karabor. Giizheg had said that the portal to Shadowmoon lead there so surely it, too, had survived. Right? You decided that you would ask him later, about how the world had changed while you were locked within it.

"Let's go," He said after a moment. "We need to get riding soon or we won't make it back before the next storm, the shaman say there's one due to hit us in two day's time. Not to mention, the others are curious about you and want to meet you before we head out. A brief introduction to those most actively in charge at the garrison- If you are alright with meeting them so soon? I don't want to rush you if you aren't ready. This can always wait until we reach our destination."

You think about it, mulling it over as the two of you turn to the right and walk down the path leading up a slight hill and out of the camp. As you move out from the shelter of the volcanic spires, the wind bites at your cheeks and you pull the scarf up over your nose. Just past where the path officially ends, the boundaries of the camp, stood eight figures of varying heights. And the closer you got with each step, the more nervous you became. Could you really do this, face these people who you'd never met or hardly knew, put your trust in them after all that had happened? You didn't know, but it was either this or go home and you just _couldn't_ stand the latter.

You hoped that the wavering of your voice could be passed off as a reaction to the cold wind, "It's fine."

You were close enough now to make out features, either in their armor or their faces, most of them wore at least a hood, a few of them had part of their face covered like you did, though one of them had theirs entirely masked. Of the two of them that didn't have their hood up, you recognized the man the Orc had called "Commander Jaerim", Giizheg's cousin, the man from the night you stared up at the stars for the first time in so long. You honestly could see no relation between them at all, they were so different from one another in looks and demeanor. The only common ground was, perhaps, their long hair and even then Jaerim's was much longer. You recalled noticing their differences the night that you first saw him, but in the daytime it was even more pronounced.

Pinkish-yellow skin and gold hair, still loosely tied back, and only barely as broad as Giizheg despite being an entire foot and a half taller than him. The wind howled and his eyes went vacant for a moment before landing upon you and shifting into how you had first seen them, hard and unyielding in their intimidation, bordering on anger, maybe a hint of suspicion. He gave a sudden, sharp whistle that made you jump.

You looked around at the others. The only other person without their hood up was yet another Blood Elf, though his eyes were different, silvery-blue and much like your own. But the aura he gave off was frightening even from afar. Gray-skinned, white haired, cheeks hollow with a stitched scar running down the entire length of the left side of his face. He stood expressionless beside another foreboding figure whose face was hidden entirely by a mask made to look like a skull, but they were shorter and much more slender than he, their body wrapped in heavy robes of red and blue and purple, a tall staff clutched in their hands. Long ears peeking out from behind the mask revealed them to be yet another elf. The hood-less man barely moved, did not even blink, as he observed you. If not for the hair tied up in a high, tight knot being ruffled by the wind, you might have thought him a statue. He looked entirely unaffected by the cold. Even the Commander's cheeks and ears were reddened by the winds, but this man was all silvery-white and frozen, as if he were made of ice.

There was something familiar about him though, despite never having seen him before, and after a moment more of observation, you realized what it was. His face looked _very _ much like Giizheg's. You wondered if he, too, was related to the paladin who walked just in front of you.

Near Commander Jaerim was another masked and hooded figure who stood rigidly beside him. Their armor was all dark blue and form fitting, the swell in the chest hinting at a woman. Yellow eyes that reminded you of a few of the Blackrock Orcs stared out from above the mask that covered half her face, glowing beneath the shadow of the hood. But none of those things were startling in comparison to the _exposed bone_ and silvery flesh of the deceased at her elbows and knees. You tensed. _What kind of woman was this? Who were you getting involved with...?_

You tore your gaze away from her, landing on a small group of figures in varying heights. Among them you recognized the healers who mended your eye after your rescue and the Orc who Giizheg called Brokenstorm. There was the elven woman with yellow hair and the fur-covered creature that slightly resembled a brown, furry Draenei with their hooves and horns and tail. The huge, slouching man in robes with huge tusks and freckled skin and only three fingers to each hand.

The closer you got, the more you found yourself trying to hide behind Giizheg's bulky form. You were ever so thankful for the hood and the scarf that hid most of your features. Your steps had become rigid, noticeably nervous, you were embarrassed by how obvious your fear was. But could anyone truly blame you for being afraid after all you'd gone through in the past months?

Jaerim stepped forward to meet you, looking right over Giizheg's head to stare you in the face. He clearly worked through intimidation tactics. There was a tense moment of silence as the wind whipped your cloak about and you had to pull your hood around your face more. He seemed to be focused on your unglowing eye, the injured and dead portion of you. Not in an obvious or rude manner, more out of a curiosity or wonder, as if he was mulling over the story behind it rather than attempting to demean or pity you. You weren't sure what to make of him or what he made of you.

"So this is the girl?" He spoke without even breaking eye contact with you, yet he seemed to be speaking to Giizheg. His voice was smooth but not as deep as Giizheg's, nor was it as kind or warm. His words were as clearly articulated and clipped as one could get when speaking Orcish. His tone was intense in a way you couldn't quite gather, but in it you could hear an emptiness that only a person well versed in sorrow and bitterness could pick up on. The combination of his voice and gaze made you shrivel and look away.

Giizheg gave a slight nod, drawing Jaerim's eyes away. You hoped your sigh of relief went unnoticed. "Yes, this is the one I told you about. I sense promise in her, I intend to train her as I explained."

"Hm. Yes, well, we'll see if the 'promise' you supposedly see gives way to anything useful. What's your name, girl?"

Giizheg visibly tensed beside you. "I have _no doubt_ she'll do well, Jaerim." The unspoken challenge was heavy in the air and Jaerim's eyes narrowed further. He was the epitome of displeased.

You almost couldn't choke out the words. The reply was lodged in your throat out of fear and discomfort. You found yourself once again questioning your decision to come with Giizheg. "My name is Taluulai." You said after a moment and you were surprised with how steady your voice was.

Jaerim opened his mouth as if to reply when he was suddenly trampled by an absolutely massive wolf. You could not suppress your shriek of terror and shock as the tusked canine took him down and decidedly sat down on the elf's back. But to your surprise it did no more than that. It simply sat there, tongue lolling out of its mouth as it panted and looked down at Jaerim expectantly. It almost seemed as if the creature was laughing at him. You were startled, to say the least, and then afraid again as the giant wolf stood and removed itself from atop the disheveled elf in the snow, turning its attention to you. It growled, a deep, low, horrible sound that immediately had you frozen as the memory of your parents' death resounded in your head. You began to back away, willing yourself not to bolt, but soon found it unnecessary as Giizheg stepped between you and the wolf, shield raised.

Jaerim jumped up from where he lay, in seconds had the wolf by the scruff and ground out a deep "_No Stormcall, bad."_

The wolf backed off immediately, ears lowering into a relaxed state, tongue out again as it jumped past Giizheg and set upon you with a series of licks and sniffs. You were stunned now, and feeling more than a little nauseas. It had all happened too quickly. The quick decisions, the nervousness, the packing and preparing, meeting Jaerim. Now there was a wolf in your face licking you as if it had always known you when not two seconds ago it had been ready to bite your head off.

Jaerim gave another whistle and the wolf returned to the elf, but this time refrained from completely crushing him into the packed snow beneath your hooves. "You will have to excuse him," He said. His face was colored with anger, but his eyes told another story, one tinged with humor and hint of wild playfulness. "He is newly trained and tends to overreact to commands and directions. He is trained to become immediately suspicious of all newcomers, but hasn't quite mastered the difference between attacking and being wary." He patted the giant creature on the head. "He's just a pup."

You couldn't understand how something so giant could possibly still be so young, but you couldn't even bring yourself to question anything. You just stood there numbly until Giizheg placed a hand on your back. It took everything in you not to jump out of your skin.

"I think that further introductions will have to wait," The paladin said, drawing closer to you protectively. "Taluulai has been though quite a lot in the last few days and asking this much of her is unfair to begin with. I think it's best that we hurry back to the garrison before the storm hits to give everyone time to settle down and adjust."

You wished you could show how thankful you were as he lead you toward the others. It was impossible though, you were certain that if you spoke now you might burst into tears. It was hard enough not to shake already. You spared a glance at the wolf that trotted along beside Jaerim and Mother's screams rang out in your mind. You remembered the smell of blood, the branches that whipped your skin as your ran, the heavy footfalls and growls as the wolves and their riders chased you...

Wide eyed, you clutched Giizheg's arm. You could only hope that things got better at the garrison.


	25. Chapter 25

**3 AM updates... Don't do those. I'm tired but I couldn't sleep and I had the jitters as I finished this one so I'm sorry. Not much action here, just a filler. Some contemplating and thinking and dwelling as Taluulai is prone to doing. I hope you enjoy this chapter and excuse any typos you come across. I'm really trying not to keep everyone waiting too long for a new chapter.**

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"I should have warned you about Jaerim," Giizheg told you over the wind. You sat behind him atop a creature called a horse. It was something similar to a Talbuk but shorter and bore no horns. The horse wore armor like you had seen the Elekk that were used for patrol wearing, it rode swiftly over the packed snow. You found it a bit uncomfortable to sit upon and by the way you were lagging behind the others, you suspected that it wasn't used to carrying two people. You awkwardly held onto Giizheg by his pauldrons and tried your hardest not bounce against the hard plate that covered him with every step the horse took.

"He is volatile on his best days," He continued, "And his moods have been getting progressively worse since we arrived on Draenor. I should've given you at least something of a warning about him, but what's done is done. I apologize on his behalf for how cold or even downright _mean_ he can come across as, I only hope that you won't take it personally."

"I don't." You said, and you didn't. You remembered his moment of vulnerability from a few nights ago. The raw, open grief and sadness that broke through the stiff anger and caution. He was like you in the way that he had clearly lost something important. You couldn't help but wonder about him, you were curious as to his past, and he made a good distraction against your own pain. "Is he like this with everyone?"

You felt Giizheg nod, "Usually, especially with newcomers. That doesn't mean it wasn't wrong of him to treat you that way. I'll have a word with him when we get to the garrison, I can usually get through the fire and ice in him. And he won't always act that way toward you, I hope. He has a good heart, truly, he just shields it and guards it well. I cannot blame him though..." There was a pause, "It is not my place to tell his story, as it is not my story, but I will tell you this; Jaerim has lost more than most. There are reasons for why he acts the way he does, good reasons. Still, he should try to be more accepting, even if it's not in his nature, even with his past."

You fell silently as you contemplated the paladin's words. They were a confirmation of what you'd suspected, but somehow they left you wondering even more. You sighed and looked around, squinting as you turned your head to observe the land around you. Everything was silver or black or some shade of blue. The sky was dark with clouds of gray and navy, the snow silver as it fell from them and blanketed the black ridges that jutted out from beneath towering snowdrifts. This was Kaurin's home, a part of you was just now realizing. You'd known that since you first saw it from the slaver's ship, but it was as if you were only just now finding this out, waking up. This cold, harsh, beautiful land of swirling snow and twisting spires was where he had grown up. You wondered if he had ever walked here in the very spot you had just ridden past. You wondered about his home and his family. He said it was by the sea, that his family raised the wolves you so badly feared and caught fish, that he had never been to the Orcish village of Wor'gol, that he had brothers but that they were dead. You wondered if one of those wolves his family raised ever belonged to him.

You suddenly remembered the dream. With the Orcish woman and the two wolves in the cave by the sea... The blue and silver banner with the wolf's head, the _Frostwolf _banner, the necklace... Her eyes. Those eyes you knew so well. You could only wonder what that dream meant, if it even meant anything at all. But if it did, was there a message? Surely there was a message, there had to be. You had never dreamed of something like that before, something so vivid that you felt as if you were actually there.

They looked so alike, Kaurin and the woman in your dream. She looked to be a bit on the older side, slightly weathered and haggard, tired. There was the unmistakable glint of grief in her eyes when she gazed upon the necklace. It was so strange how similar she looked to him. The more that you thought about her, the more similarities you were able to find. Similar skin tone and hair, a calm demeanor and a kind face- for an Orc. The eyes were the greatest similarity, of course. The gold was a distinct shade you hadn't seen in the eyes of the other Orcs. The woman was so strikingly alike to him that she could practically be his mother.

That thought stopped you. _His mother..._ Your mind whirled. Was this dream sent to you by some otherworldly force- The Light maybe? Were you supposed to seek this woman out? There were so many questions. Who was she? What was her name? Was she truly Kaurin's mother? What was she doing now? Where was she? You found it hard to remind yourself that she could possibly be nothing but a grief-fueled figure of your dreams, brought about by the part of you that couldn't and wouldn't let Kaurin go. She might not even be real. The chance of that was great.

You found your mind busied until Giizheg and the others stopped to set up camp for the night. You climbed down from the horse with his help, aching in places that you had never realized could ache before. Walking around was hard enough with your missing eye, with the added fatigue and soreness you shambled through the snow and into the small camp being hastily erected by the others.

Thankfully, it's up much quicker than you had anticipated and it isn't long before you're seated on furs piled on the large, relatively snow-free, stone slab chosen as tonight's resting area. It's an almost-cave, stone spires and jutting walls of black rock surrounding you, only a small area of the sky is visible had started a fire that you are now surrounding, seated between Giizheg and the yellow-haired woman you recognize as one of the healers. You feel like you should say something to her, a 'thank you' at least, but you can't manage the words. The light from the fire bathes the dark rocks that shelter you in reds and golds and warmth floods your bones. You feel hot and sticky, unbalanced because of the lack of sight on one side, suffocating between all these people. It's quickly becoming unbearable...

Your eyes strain for something to focus on, your ears trying to pick up a conversation, anything to distract you. You run your right hand through the pelt draped around your shoulders and you try to let out your sigh as quietly as possible. The atmosphere now reminds you of the mines. Warm light and hot air, the stench of sweat, fatigue, fire. _Enough of this!_ Your mind is struggling to pierce through this fog. You're tired of feeling this way, of the mines still haunting your every moment. But the events that took place there have burned that place into your mind, memories have freshly-painted portraits displayed at the front of your thoughts.

You close your eyes and pick out the one thing from that place that held you together week after week. Kaurin is sitting before you, his gaze intense, his fingers brush your hand and clasp your fingers. You feel small but it doesn't bother you the way it did before. He could crush your hands with his own but he never would. You reach your own hand up to run them along the strange texture of the braids in his hair, the roughness of his skin on his chest before it smoothes out and becomes briefly soft at his throat. You have memorized the feel of the front of him after so many sleeps against it. You're no stranger to the back of him either but you'd rather not think of the scars that litter his tanned skin. The image is suddenly infected. His face is twisted in pain, eyes screwed shut, mouth agape and filled with rocks and dust and sand, cheeks scraped and bruised. The crushing weight of your failure returns, when you open your eyes again the camp is entirely set up and the others are sitting around the fire as your eyes burn and sting and tears linger like the ghost of Kaurin, like the tainted memory of him that will never be as good as the real thing.

Even dead he had been beautiful. Beautiful in the way that a wood carving is beautiful, or a rough stone, a gnarled tree, dark earth just before planting. Rugged, open, wild and honest. In the rubble he had still shone like an amber star, a piece of the sun, molten gold. You wonder what life would be like for the two of you if you had met under different, better circumstances. Where would you be? Would you still have ended up together? Would Father dislike him so much? What of Mother? Would you be joined, maybe even living together? What of the possibility of children? Draenei children were slow to come and rare a sight, but surely you would've had some eventually, yes? You paused at that thought as the image of a dusky-skinned little girl with horns, a tail, and tusks filled your mind. She would tug at your skirt and stare up at you with gold eyes, grinning as she shoved a wildflower from the plains of Shadowmoon into your palm.

It was so horribly unfair.


	26. Chapter 26

**Hey there, finally another update. This is a fairly good-sized one. Well, for this story at least. Pretty soon, if not tonight, I'm going to be compiling down previous chapters to lessen the chapter count and just make it easier to handle. I'll probably start the editing and revising process as well.  
**

**Well, enjoy.**

_You were back at the coast again, at the fur-covered door to the cave. You could smell meat roasting over a fire as trickles of smoke escaped through the places the fur couldn't quite cover. Inside someone is singing, or rather humming, a mixture of the two. The voice is low but clearly that of a woman's, smooth and calming but the song is sad. The melody echoes up through the cave door as you absently lift the flap and peer inside. You catch only snippets of the lyrics._

_...Through the soul entwines a thread..._

_...A bond to last through love and death..._

_You are drawn into the cave, you lean into the warmth of it just a bit further. There are steps carved roughly into the stone that lead down into the den. Many furs cover the large, circular space below you, of many different animals. Hammocks make a ring around the room, attached high above the cave floor to the circular walls. There are six in total but only one is being used. The bulky shape of a man is lying on the one farthest from the stairs. He is most definitely asleep, so still he lays, but you can see sweat on his bare chest and along his arms and shoulders and heavy on his forehead. His breathing is irregular, hitching, gasping, too quick for someone asleep normally. Shallow. You suspect that without the smell of roasting meat, the cave would reek of sickness._

_You do not see the wolves from before as you scan the cave and take in the rest of it. There is a large, low table off to the right, a huge Frostwolf flag hanging on the wall above it. Sacks and nets and crates are piled up in a little niche carved into the wall, and above that is a shelf covered with bottles and small boxes and mugs and bowls, a bundle of herbs. There is a weapon rack on the wall beside it that bears two axes, one smaller than the other, a sword and a bow. The quiver hangs on a peg nearby. Below the weapon rack is a bench and beside the bench are two pairs of boots, made of hardened leather and fur lined. There are cloaks and parkas hanging on more pegs, pieces of armor stacked neatly on the floor, woven baskets containing more clothing. A large portion of the floor is taken up by two saddles and many packs._

_And then you see her, crouching beside a fire pit with a metal grill laid over it, the woman from your dream before. She is still humming and singing softly. Above the fire and grill hang a pot of boiling water, a large chunk of meat is speared on a spit and more pieces of meat are being grilled over the fire. There is a small table beside her covered in spice packets and cut up herbs. She turns to reach for a handful of something and stops when she sees you._

_You falter, stepping back when she stands._

"_You..." She murmurs and you start to turn to run, hearing her calling as you do so. "No, wait!"_

_You turn and are greeted by blackness. The song she was singing still echoes in your ears..._

You awake and you are already sitting up in the pile of furs beside the fire that you fell asleep on earlier. There are more now than you remember. You are gasping and shaking, sweating profusely. Your head aches and pounds but you don't understand why. Perhaps you are ill? All you know is that you are too hot. With a groan you shrug off one of the pelts, your cloak and the fire still keeping you from freezing. You regret falling asleep in the leather clothes as your limbs protest against every movement, riding will be awful tomorrow. You rub your good eye and that's when you realize that you still hear someone singing the song from your dream.

There is a slight shift of movement across the fire and you freeze. For some irrational reason you are terrified to look up but force yourself to do so. Jaerim is sitting across the fire from you, his hair gleaming a rich red-gold in the firelight, heavy shadows cast across his face, the glow of his eyes severe. The song dies in his throat as your eyes meet. The silence is heavy but as he nods at you the impending awkwardness vanishes just a little.

"You were upset earlier, when you fell asleep no one saw any reason to move you and cause any more strain." His voice is clearly guarded, words obviously chosen. But it's the first time that he has spoken amicably to you, or at least neutrally. You recall your thoughts from earlier, and the tears. You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, unsure what to do or say now so you look away.

So the woman could not possibly be real, could not possibly be Kaurin's mother. This was all your mind merely wishing for a piece of him to hold on to, making something of the memory of him. You fight the sob in your throat as you force yourself to let go of the hope you held. Everything was so broken. You were angry at yourself, then, with your mind for making up something so ridiculous, at yourself for actually believing that you were dreaming of a real woman who you had never met before. Just how much did your mind rot in the mines? Had the fumes taken so much from you, or the lack of nourishment, the trauma? Your hands curled into fists, balled tightly in your anger, nails digging into your palms, knuckles white. You felt your anger and anguish collide and boil together until they bordered on rage and despair. You were surely mad, losing yourself after all this. It had been too much, losing Kaurin and nearly being raped had been the final straw...

Frustrated, you stared down into the fire. It was warm and the flames looked inviting. Perhaps if you stuck your fingers into the rippling heat you would feel something other than this anguish. Maybe the burning would snap you back into reality, maybe then your mind wouldn't make up these ridiculous dreams and cling to something you were never going to have again. You were torn between hating the mines and wanting to go back in time and relive them over and over if only to spend every moment with Kaurin. He had been all you had, and you all he had. He had been your lifeline, the rope that tethered you to the shore in a sea of fear and uncertainty, he was quiet in his devotion but it was unwavering where nothing else was constant. Now your world quivered and threatened to crack, you were losing your mind, slipping under the water and into the rough currents that dragged you down deep. You imagined yourself as a sinking stone, hollow on the inside, air and life fizzing out from cracks and holes as you fell deeper. Someday you would be weathered down into nothing but bits of sand, scattered across Draenor's shoreline, never to be whole again.

You forced your eyes away from the flames and settled on Jaerim. He sat with no pelt about his shoulders, armor still on, bow laid before him upon the black stone. He, too, seemed entranced by the flames. You watched his brow furrow and his eyes narrow as his face twisted itself up in what you could only guess was frustration. You wondered what he thought about, what had him so upset. You recalled Giizheg's words, that he had lost more than most. Again, you wondered what he had lost.

It occurred to you, suddenly, that you had yet to bring up Kaurin in your conversations with the paladin. No one knew about him, about what you shared, about what happened to him. He was a private topic, the knowledge of his very existence was the final piece that remained and perhaps the most important. Draenei lived long lives and their memory was long too. You would not soon, if ever, forget Kaurin. You dreaded the idea that there might be a day when he escaped your mind and was lost to you forever. By then those that knew him would all have passed if they hadn't already, you would be the last to know of him, forever to hold the final trace of him. Some selfish part of you delighted in this, but you couldn't shake the emptiness that accompanied the knowledge that when you passed, no one could pass on the memory of him. If the memory was lost, then that would finalize his death. There would be no more speculation on what might have been if things were different, of what would happen now if he had survived, no more recalling his eyes and his braids, no more remembrance of the scars on his back or his intriguing gentleness. The world was already so barren without him. If the memory of him were not to vanish, perhaps it would stop the world from becoming an altogether wasteland.

You resolved to talk with Giizheg someday soon. To tell him at least the barest of details about the Orc you had fallen in love with. You wondered what he might think of you after this revelation and found that you almost didn't care. Kaurin had meant too much to you for you to be so petty as to deny that you loved him.

Across the fire Jaerim shifted on his pelt and pulled something from a pouch on his belt. It glinted in the firelight but that was all you saw of it before he deposited it back into the little pouch. When you glanced at his face you saw that the heated look of anger and frustration had crumpled and now he was staring into the fire as if it wasn't even there. His mind was somewhere else. As you fell back to sleep, so was yours.

Morning came too quickly and was barely discernable from night in the shadow of the jutting rocks and under the cover of clouds even thicker than they had been yesterday. Jaerim was still sitting across the dying fire when you awoke. You wondered if he had moved from the spot all night.

You folded your pelts as you waited for Giizheg to come address you and tell you what to do now. Eventually he emerged from one of the few tents set up along with the blond healer and a couple of the others, armored as he had been yesterday. You stood and went to meet him, aching worse than the last time you awoke. He gave you another of his gentle smiles but there was the slightest hint of worry as his eyes slid from you to his cousin. He laid a carefully placed hand on your arm and lead you toward where the others had gathered in a small crowd.

"I hope he didn't say or do anything brash toward you last night," He half whispered as you walked. "I warned him to leave you be, and though he agreed he has never been one to listen."

You shook your head, "He did nothing," You reassured him, "He spoke to me only once when I awoke last night and he was..." You weren't quite sure what to say here, "Nice?"

Giizheg relaxed, though he looked a bit perplexed before shaking his head slightly and returning his gaze to you with another smile, "Are you hungry?"

The crowd had gathered to share a simple breakfast of, once again, more stew and a bit of dry bread. The bread was a bit hard to chew but still far better than your food in this mines, though that wasn't hard to beat. After the quick meal Giizheg handed you your small pack and one of the pelts from the pile, taking one for himself as well. "The storm is approaching more quickly than we had thought, or rather more quickly than our shaman thought. It seems to have gained speed and strength overnight. We will probably be riding through the fringes of it today, you will want this."

Only a few minutes later you were speeding over a barren field of ice that went on for what had to be tens of miles, more spires and mountains poking up from the horizon's blade-like edge. The sky above you was dangerously dark, heavy with low-hanging clouds that were frayed along the bottom and floated there as if they were just out of reach. It looked messy, the churning of a dark brew. The thought had you recalling stories of the Arakkoa, the ones Father told on rain-chilled evenings during the late harvest, about dark poisons and people tossed from the top of a towering citadel called _Skyreach_. You thought back to the bird people you'd encountered in the mines and felt a twinge of loss when you realized remember if you'd ever spoken to a single one of them. You'd hardly spoken to anyone, really only Kaurin. For so many people shoved in a mine with only each other to help them, there'd been a lot of segregation. There had been groups, you remembered, all huddled away in their corners as they whispered amongst themselves and saved up scraps to feed each other. And then there had been the loners, the people like you. The stragglers on the side, ostracised for one reason or another. You were young and terrified but you weren't blind, you'd always been aware of the odd looks and stares and the hate-filled glares cast in your direction by one race or another. As if the Draenei owned you because of your race, as if the Orcs owned Kaurin because of his... Heritage didn't make the person. You took some pride in knowing that you'd always chosen to ignore it, that you'd spent every waking moment possible in the company of someone who _did_ matter.

The hours passed, the winds picked up, the two of you hardly spoke. Thoughts possessed you for the entirety of the ride and you got the sense that Giizheg was lost in the mess of his own mind. It had begun to snow some time ago when suddenly the wind changed direction and hit you all form the left, coming in from east. The clouds closed in around you, bearing down on you from above. You hide your face in the pelt Giizheg had draped about his shoulders and pulled your own around you tighter. The fur was warm and dark, a fuzzy cocoon that was surprisingly effective against the storm. When you dared to peek out again, you were almost immediately blasted by an even more intense wind. The snow was coming down in a thick, diagonal sheet, nearly sideways. You pressed your face into Giizheg's back again as the air was so cold that it stung even your eyes. As you held yourself there, you heard and felt Giizheg's sharp breaths and you swore that, over the rhythmic movements of the horse, you could feel him shivering.

You must have fallen asleep after a time because this time when you snuck a look, the winds had died down and you could tell that the darkness was due to more than just the clouds. It was night and in a nearby volcano the magma and lava glowed red and angry against the black rock. You almost mistook the cluster of orange-gold lights in the distance for another volcano. But when Giizheg slowed the warhorse to a canter and flickering torches appeared to light the barely-there path in the snow, you realized that you must have arrived at long last.

You weaved your way through a swamp of lava and boulders and the garrison was in full view. Huge gates of wood, metal, and red and black fabric greeted your gaze as you rounded the last rock. The snow glowed gold under the light emitted from many fires and braziers and torches outside the gates, even more light illuminated the sky above from the inside. The closer you got, the bigger the gates got, and they didn't seem to stop getting bigger- even when you passed beneath them, neck craned to look at them, scarf tumbling from your chin as you gaped. Even the buildings in Elodor had never seemed so big. In your mind, only Karabor could rival what you saw here in size, and you had only even seen the temple at a distance...

The amount of spikes was staggering.

Finally inside, a caravan of people were waiting. You squinted, momentarily blinded by the contrast to the darkness you'd spent hours riding through. People of all raced swarmed everywhere, all seemingly centered about Jaerim, questions and requests flooding from their mouths. You caught only snippets and were reminded of the markets in Tuurem and their gossipping, chattering shoppers and shopkeepers.

"... A success?"

"As for the amount of casualties, that remains to be..."

"...Called to Warspear, we were told that it's urgent..."

"...Discovered in the mines? If so, how many? The healers dispatched to Wor'gol were..."

"There was another attack while you were away we lost..."

"...Any apexis deposits, Khadgar insists we send a team out to..."

Jaerim continued walking, practically ignoring them. The blonde elven woman beside him spoke instead, "The Commander is unfit for conversation at this time, all complaints and business will be handled by Zog until Jaerim has replenished his strength." The crowd dispersed and slowly melted back into the different areas of the sprawling base. You almost missed Jaerim's shudder of relief and his whispered _thank you_ to the other elf that betrayed his exhaustion.

You dismounted and your legs crumpled. You slid to the ground and lay there in a sore, exhausted heap. Giizheg handed the horse's reins off to someone else and helped you from the ground.

"Come along," He murmured over the various garrison sounds. "You can have my bed until we work out a place for you." You didn't have the strength to feel guilty as he lead you off into the base.


	27. Chapter 27

**Wow. It feels so good to _finally _update this thing. It's been months since I have. My life has been absolutely insane in the last few months, but that's hardly an excuse. I could apologize again but writing a proper one to atone for how awful I feel leaving you all here for this long would take all night. All I can do is give you another chapter and hope that you forgive me, if any of you readers are even still out there haha.**

**It's not even a major chapter, just another of slight introduction and contemplation. Nevertheless, I hope that you find some enjoyment. And I promise to you guys here and now, I _will_ finish this story.**

* * *

There were no dreams, only an emptiness that pushed you more toward the side of you that was convinced you were losing your mind. There were no dreams. You were not seeing Kaurin's mother, just a twisted representation of something you so badly _wished_ was real. But none of it was. You were left with the evidence of the damage dealt to your mind in the past months. The sickening thing was that you didn't want to believe that it wasn't real. You so desperately wanted something to hold on to, a piece of Kaurin was a piece of hope, but like sand he slipped between your fingers. Like the crushed rubble of the mine walls when it all crashed down on you.

When morning came and Giizheg rose from his spot on the floor and woke you, you fought the tears. She- the Orc woman- wasn't real. You sat, so tired, so empty, and waited for direction, watching the short elf move about the very tiny room. He looked so absorbed in his tasks, gathering up the blankets from the floor and opening a small wardrobe in the corner to retrieve his clothes. You wished you could be so calm, so focused, that your path and direction were so fixed and certain. Envy shot through you like like ice in your veins but you suppressed it, shoving it back with your tears as he turned to you.

"Wait here and I'll bring you breakfast and a washtub. There are clothes in there." He pointed to a large wooden and metal chest at the foot of the bed. "Once you feel ready, you can come find me in the main hall and we'll see just where your skills with the Light are at."

You waited and he returned with both the food and the water-filled tub as promised. Once he was gone, you found yourself staring at the little tray of bread and tea and the steam that rose from the tub. Silence surrounded you like a wet blanket, blocking out everything else, and your thoughts were invaded by grief until you could no longer take it.

You stood and walked to the washtub, staring down into it in disgust. Finally now you could plainly see what all of you looked like, beyond your disfigured eye and gaunt face. You truly were a mess, a sight to behold, even in the new clothes you'd been given before you came here. There were no bruises and scrapes, the healers had seen to those, but dirt and ash was splattered across any skin that was visible. Your hair was a tangled disaster, a few inches longer than you remembered it being, and hung limply over your shoulders and around your horns. Old, small scars littered your arms, your face, your hands especially.

The longer you stared down at yourself, the more you itched to be clean, to climb into the steaming water and scrub until your skin was raw and no more dirt covered you. Finally you stripped away your clothes and tossed them into the corner where Giizheg appeared to be putting his own. Slowly, carefully, relishing in the feel of the water against your skin, you stepped into the bath and sat down. You could not contain the sigh that escaped you and for a few minutes all you did was sit.

Numbed guilt squirmed through your head as you wished that Kaurin could be here with you, enjoying safety and warm water, food and fresh air, enjoying being alive. But he wasn't, and there stood the unchangeable hell that you had to face now, that you somehow had to stop from consuming you absolutely. Even though you felt as if it already had.

You closed your eyes and rubbed your wet hands over your face, through your hair, longing to feel anything other than that guilt. Somewhere in you, determination stirred and set you straight, even if just for a moment. Giizheg was waiting for you, you reminded yourself, and so was the Light. You couldn't keep them waiting forever, and so you got to work.

There was a small coarse cloth at the bottom of the tub, perfect for scrubbing, and a bar of soap that was surprisingly cold. _Frostweed_. You scrubbed away at your skin first, leaving your hair for the end because it would be the hardest part. You weren't even certain it could be saved, perhaps it would have to be cut. Cutting it so short would have bothered you in the past, you remembered the one time Mother had cut it to your chin, funny how you no longer cared. Such a silly thing to fuss over was just that... Silly.

When the dirt was gone from your skin, only rebellious, stubborn grit stuck beneath your nails remaining, you finally faced the monster that was your tangled hair. Lathering your hands with soap, you ran your fingers through your hair until you hit the snags, yanking and yanking, wincing against the pain as you fought the tangles. But finally, after what surely must have been an hour, only little tangles were left that you could deal with later and you climbed out of the wash tub, the water now nearly cold and gone murky with all the dirt and grime you'd scrubbed away.

In the chest there was another set of thick furs and leathers very similar to what you were wearing before, sitting on top of various trinkets beneath it. Personal items, you guessed and then promptly ignored in an effort not to invade Giizheg's privacy any more than you already had. This set was lighter, though, in both color and weight, than the previous one. All tans and light beiges, lacking the fur lining as well.

You dressed quickly, pulling on the undergarments, hurrying through the lacing on the leg wraps and gloves, buttoning the kilt that sat about your hips. You caught a murky glimpse of your reflection in the wash tub water, dressed and clean. If you turned your head so that you couldn't see the dead eye, you looked almost normal. Still, the clothes were unusual and constricting, and there was a hauntedness to your expression that gave away the fact that this was not the girl from a few months ago. That girl was forever gone.

You shoved away the melancholic nausea that was working its way into your throat with those thoughts and focused on finishing getting ready. You ran your fingers through your semi-wavy, drying hair and tucked your now too long bangs behind your ears and horns. Finally you stood in the middle of the room, fully dressed, clean for the first time in weeks, desperately trying to convince yourself that you were ready.

Your fingers shook as they grabbed the doorknob, rattling it as you opened the door. Your hooves clopped loudly on the wooden floor and echoed down the hall. The hall itself was curved, the walls lined with several doors. Voices came from your right and you followed them nervously, again searching for loose threads to pick at and finding none once more. You steeled yourself, trying to square your shoulders and hold your head high as you followed the curve in the hall, feeling very much like an elekk calf attempting to go head to head with the bulls in the herd. The hall got less dim as you went on and before long it opened up into a massive room, one you vaguely remembered in your exhaustion last night.

Large and round, high ceilings with braziers hanging a few feet above your head, the floor cloaked in pelts, the few places to sit being stone save for a couple of wooden benches. In the center of the room was a large, circular table, on it what appeared to be a map of some sort and several small figurines, and all around the table stood a flood of people who busily scoured the map with their eyes and muttered plans to one another.

You stepped unsteadily into the room and all heads snapped in your direction. Suddenly timid again, you allowed yourself a deep breath and abandoned any attempts at bravery, but then you looked back up at them and realised that you recognized most of them from the day before yesterday. Jaerim, the green-skinned shaman called Brokenstorm, the yellow eyed woman, the blue eyed elf, the blond woman who had shooed everyone away from Jaerim the previous night, and of course Giizheg who immediately came to greet you.

"Taluulai," You took what comfort that you could from his smile, "I hope you're feeling a bit better after a nice bath." At your nod he gestured to everyone beside the table. "Come," He said, "You never got to properly meet everyone before, save for the commander, of course."

You followed him to the table, stopping a few feet before them all, though. Fear was still too deeply imbedded within you now, after everything, and you hardly felt comfortable surrounded by so many strangers. Nevertheless you managed the shakiest of smiles. "Hello." Your greeting was more whisper than word, more breath than voice.

Giizheg settled into introductions starting with Brokenstorm, whose hand engulfed yours when you shook, who smiled at you even while you eyed him suspiciously, lips curling around his tusks in a way that was all too familiar. You swallowed down your grief like nasty medicine and turned to the next person.

The yellow eyed woman was named Hyasist, and Hyasist was apparently as suspicious of you as you were of her, because she removed her hood and mask only to glare at you from across the stretch of table as if you were the most offensive thing she'd ever encountered. But you could hardly care, you were too busy staring at the rip skin on her face, the exposed bone on her cheeks, the stitched up wounds that still oozed ever so slightly. She leaned forward after a moment, the aura emanating from her so toxic that you in turn took a full step back. At this Hyasist laughed, cold and harsh, coarse like dragging stone across stone. Beside you Giizheg fidgeted and gave a slight cough and Hyasist abruptly withdrew into her mask and hood once more, leaving only her eyes visible like before.

You had thought Hyasist bad, but beside her stood an even more imposing figure. The tall, silvery elf who'd worn no hood even in the harshest of winds. His blue eyes bore into you but at the same time they were vacant, as hollow and gaunt as his cheeks. His stare was that of the dead, unblinking and piercing like Hyasist's, but somehow infinitely colder, a chill spreading through you even though all he did was look. He opened his mouth and chilled air seeped out from between his lips in a puff before disappearing.

"So you are to be my brother's student." You were surprised that he even spoke to you, but once he had, you wished he hadn't. Where Hyasist's harsh laugh had been like stone against stone, this elf's voice was ghostly, metallic, as if two swords met when he spoke, the words echoing on their own as they rolled off his tongue. "I am Vokuro."

You had at least been right about the resemblance, for he was Giizheg's brother, though he hardly needed to confirm it. One look at their faces told you everything, gave away their siblinghood and shared blood. You were suddenly shaken by memories of envy, how you had once wanted a sibling of your own, a brother or sister to stifle the loneliness a bit. Now all you wanted was what you'd taken for granted, you just wanted the family you'd already had, wished you could tell them how much they meant to you, to apologize for every time you'd snapped at them or hadn't shown them love.

"Nice to meet you."

You moved on the next person, the blonde elven woman who introduced herself as Victoria and shook your hand firmly, who nodded at you cordially and seemed to be the most put-together and sensible one in the room. But you wondered if it was just a front, if she had a secret lurking below. Who could be so perfect? You found yourself inspecting her as she greeted you and could not help but could see no faults in her. Perhaps she had none, but that would be impossible. Perhaps you were just looking for them so that you didn't feel so much like dirt here among these strangers.

You stepped back from her handshake and looked to the floor. Again you wondered if this was the right decision. Should you really be here? You were certain that you didn't _belong_ here, as far as race went, age too. You knew you'd be a fair bit younger than these people if you aged at the same rate as them, and though truly you were older than them by decades, the scars and armor and high ranks they seemed to hold told you that mentally you were centuries behind them. You truly were a child. Giizheg placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and brought you back to reality, but you toned out whatever else was said, watching as words were exchanged, but not really hearing them. Finally he lead you down a small flight of stairs and to a set of heavy doors. Guards on either side opened them and you squinted your good eye as the world was flooded by blinding light reflecting off of the snow.

As your vision adjusted to the brightness of the snow, you wondered if maybe you shouldn't have just gone back to Shadowmoon with the rest of your kind, if you should not have just left this land of snow and fire far behind you. But then you thought about the emptiness of your family's house in Elodor, the bleakness of a place without the life it used to possess, and who was to say the rest of the city wouldn't feel the same? Giizheg said that Elodor had survived the war so far, even when Karabor had fallen, but surely there were scars, an everlasting impact. No place could survive unscathed, _you_ had not survived unscathed. And what of the future? Would it fall in the future, would the Iron Horde return to try once more?

You swallowed as you looked out over the garrison. All around you were armored figures ready for war, guards and soldiers, weapon racks and buildings covered in spikes, stone and snow and the harshness of lava and ice coming together in a battle beneath your hooves. All around you was war, it is what this place was built for. The world was thrown into war, Draenei against Orc, Alien Horde against Iron Horde. If your life was going to be one of war then there was no point in trying to hide away and pretend as if it wasn't all around you. All you could do now, with everyone you loved already gone and nothing left to lose, was fight.


	28. Chapter 28

**I'm so glad to be working on this again, I had forgotten just how much I loved this story. I really can't wait for you guys to see everything that's going to happen in the coming chapters. Hopefully you'll like how this story ends...**

**I've got a strange sort of sequel planned for it, featuring their child but in _our_ timeline, not the alternate timeline that Warlords is set in. Their daughter, unraveling the version of their story that takes place in our timeline as she attempts to find out where she comes from and who she really is. Let me know what you guys think about that. :)**

**Alright, in this chapter we kick off some paladin training. Enjoy.**

"I think it would be best to start you off in leather," Giizheg said with a gesture to the set you wore. "And then to work you up to chainmail, then to plate. It will give your body time to adjust to wearing anything heavier than cloth and allow you to more easily handle combat and weapon training. For those same reasons you will only be learning healing and defense spells, and only be using a small mace and shield to start you off."

He looked back at you as the two of you walked together and you nodded your approval at his methods, trying not to get distracted by everything and everyone you saw. These aliens and green-skinned Orcs were so odd, so different. Never had you seen such people before, and there were ever so many around you, some even underfoot like the troupe of little green ones who'd nearly tripped you a few minutes earlier.

"Goblins." Giizheg had said with an exasperated eye roll.

Ahead of you, said paladin stopped. He turned to you with a smile, "Here we are," He said, and began unbuckling and shucking away pieces of the armor he wore. "Now hit me with the strongest spell you are capable of."

You were admittedly caught off guard by his request, thinking that there would be more leading up to this, but as he'd said earlier, he wanted to see where you stood in strength with the Light. You nodded once more and prepared yourself, settling into a stance you hadn't been in since that day at the lake, the very first time you'd met Kaurin, and the fight with the dire wolf.

The memory made you falter, but you shook your head slightly and tried to clear your mind as much as you could. Stance ready, you felt the Light ignite in you, starting in your chest and rippling through your limbs where it sat ready at your fingertips and swirled into sight in your palms as the spell charged. You had not felt like this in so long, had not felt so at peace. It had been months since you'd felt so safe, free from turmoil or confusion or fear, so free. You looked up at Giizheg who stood before in a stance of his own, weaponless and barechested with only cloth pants on now, barefoot even, and cast the spell.

You sent it hard into his chest and to your surprise, he let it the spell hit right on target, did not even try to get out of the way. "Again," He said, not at all phased. You weren't sure whether to feel relieved for him or worried that your spell had no effect on him whatsoever.

You cast again, putting a little more strength into the spell, moving with it as if you were throwing a stone as you cast. It hit once more, this time in the stomach. You looked at him briefly to see if he was hurt, but if he was he showed nothing.

"Again."

You felt almost frustrated that it was having no effect. How could you take down a full grown, snarling riding wolf but not an armorless man who was nearly half your height? You remembered the way you felt at the lake, the emotion in you, the fear that launched you forward, that fueled you. When you next cast the spell, you allowed some of emotion into it, a taste of the fear you felt now, the fear of being weak. This time the spell landed and you saw him raise his eyebrows a bit. Perhaps emotion _was_ the key after all.

You began to cast once more and looked to him for direction. He nodded at you and you fed into the spell the turmoil you'd felt in the mines, how weak and afraid you'd been, how you never wanted to feel that way ever again. You threw yourself forward with the spell, taking a step as you released the bolt of Light into him, but the movement had slightly thrown you off and you hit him in the shoulder rather than the stomach or chest as with before. This time, though, when the spell hit him, he was actually moved from the impact, if only slightly. It was a start.

"Once more," He said. "One more time..."

You closed your eyes, shifting back into the correct stance, feeling the Light wash through you completely, and is it did, you let it wash away the horrors you'd seen, the pain you'd felt, the fear and hatred and sadness. You fed into it your love for Kaurin, for you parents, the hopelessness that haunted you now with their passings. You remembered their deaths. Mother's screams, Kaurin's lifelessness in your hands...

Your failure.

Tears came and fell when you released the spell, the bolt launching itself like a streaking spear straight into the center of Giizheg's chest, pushing him back a bit, knocking some of the air from his lungs.

You closed your eyes again, breathing heavily from the strain of casting and the weight of your emotions, but also the relief that came with letting some of those feelings go, be washed away by the Light through your spells.

A warm hand was very gently, carefully, placed on your arm. "You did very well," You heard Giizheg say, "Better, even, than I thought that you would. You did not hold back." You opened your eyes and dared to look up at him, surprised to see that there were purple-red marks where your spells had hit, the last one had even blistered his skin. He took your hand and you let him, feeling drained for the moment as you fought fatigue from casting so quickly and the turmoil that threatened to return to you now that the Light was not surging through you. But somehow it was easier to handle now, somehow it did not immediately drag you down into the abyss that had begun to claim you since liberation.

You allowed yourself a slight smile. If anything at all, you had proven something to yourself, "I am not weak." You said quietly, more to yourself than him.

He heard you nonetheless. "No," He replied, "You most definitely are not. Physical strength of a person's body or magic is not true strength. True strength is found in many places, places where those things do not even matter. Facing your fears, living even when you want to die, fighting on even when you want to give up, choosing peace over old hatreds, doing what you know is right... Courage, resilience, love, wisdom, those things are part of what makes up true strength."

You were silent as you thought over his words and he stepped away from you. You watched him heal himself, Light surrounding him in gold tendrils that snaked through the air around him and into the wounds, soaking into them like water into sand until the small wounds you inflicted disappeared. Once done he turned back to you, this time taking both your hands in his and looking you straight in the eye as he said, "I don't know all of what you've been through," He murmured, "I can imagine some of the things and I know of the few things that you've told me, but I do not know everything. However, I do know this: I do know that those experiences have helped to make you strong, that they have built around you a strength that few others who have not survived such things will ever possess or understand." He said.

"And I do know that everything you feel and have felt, whether it's fear or hatred or sorrow, does not make you weak. Those emotions, feeling such things, are normal and as you learn to deal with them and as you go on through life as a survivor those things will make you wise, and everything you've experienced will help you to better understand others. Maybe someday you will help a girl like you who has been through so much to cope with what comes next in life."

He put the rest of his armor on as you bit back tears and pondered his words. This man who called you wise and strong, who reassured you that you were not weak, possessed so much wisdom and strength of his own. You wondered what he'd experienced, what tragedies he'd lived through, to have gained his place in the world of the wise and strong.

"Come," He took your hand again, smiling warmly as he did "You've only just gotten out of that literal hellhole," He said, "You need more time to rest and heal, emotionally and physically, before we truly start training. Besides, there are more people for you to meet and more places for you to see, but first let's get some water. Hydration is very important after training or combat of any kind."


End file.
